Preta's Realm (22 page)

Molly slammed the door, shaking the Led Zeppelin poster on the wall. Brian put his hands behind his back. He shoved the cigarette between his lips and snapped the flint on his lighter.

***

“Thank you, and welcome to Channel 7 News. I’m your anchor, Melanie Sampson, and this is our top story. Things seem to be getting more bizarre in the Crooked Tail River murder investigation. In addition to the two bodies discovered last week, a local woman has now gone missing. Let’s go back out to Nan Roles, who has been covering the story for us.”

“Melanie, authorities are not releasing information other than the woman’s identity. Twenty-nine year-old Rachel Merinshore was reported missing by her friend several hours after she failed to show up at a book club meeting that evening.”

“I thought the police did not consider a person missing until they were gone for twenty-four hours. Why are they releasing this now?”

“They are worried that her disappearance is suspect and could be related to the other murders. Merinshore’s car is also missing, and she lives in the same housing plan as one Drew Green, a man the police considered a person of interest, but who now seems to be the primary suspect.”

“Nan, do you have information on this Drew Green?”

“Yes, Melanie. He is a thirty-nine year-old husband and father of two. He is employed by Rede Design, the same office where the two victims were employed. One neighbor told us that that there was a foot chase this morning, but that the police lost the suspect. You can see the patrol cars over my shoulder that have staked out the house and have been searching the neighborhood for the man that is now a fugitive from the law.”

“Is he wanted for questioning, or has an arrest warrant been issued?”

“There is a warrant out for his arrest, Melanie. Police are cautioning people, saying that the man could be very dangerous. They’re asking anyone that has any information to call the tip hotline, and under no circumstances should they confront the suspect.”

“Wow. What a tragic and frightening story. Thanks, Nan.”

“You’re welcome, Melanie.”

Brian aimed the remote at the television and thumbed the power button in one motion. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his chin. The smell of Molly lingered on his hands. His chest ached. Somehow, the old adage of putting your buddies before women never shook out. Brian always found Molly intoxicating, like his favorite beer. He could never stop at one, could not keep it to flirting or friendship. She was not completely innocent, either. Brian surmised that he was able to do something to her that Drew could not. He reached a primal, primitive place that excited and satisfied her to the point of risking marriage and family to see him.

Brian’s phone buzzed on the table next to his bed. He reached over and looked at the icon of the caller.

“Hey, man. Where the hell are you?”

“Riding. Taking some time to think.”

“Your face is all over the fucking news. Molly is worried sick about you.”

Brian felt a pang of guilt in the pause before Drew’s response.

“I’m sure she is.”

Brian thought he heard a whispering sound. “Got a passenger?”

“Of sorts.”

“Who’s with ya, bud?”

“Speaking of Molly,” said Drew, ignoring Brian’s last question. “Seen her lately?”

Brian forced the lump in his throat down in order to keep his voice from wavering.

“No, man. Why would I? Been at home watching movies and drinking beer since Rede shut down. Got some bitchin’ zombie movies. Wanna swing by and watch Zombieland? Bill Murray is in it. A fucking riot.”

Silence hung on the line. Brian looked down at the phone but saw that the call counter continued. Drew was still there.

“Ain’t that the one where he’s not a zombie, but they think he is and so they shoot him? He plays himself, right?”

Brian’s face lit up and he rocked back into the headboard, smiling like old times. He looked to his left and saw the depression in the mattress left by Drew’s wife and the smile dropped from his face. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Seen it.”

“We could watch it again?”

“Is she still there, Brian?”

Brian took the question like a blow to the midsection. He stood and straightened the sheets as if disposing of evidence in the investigation of infidelity.

“Who?”

“Remember that time we went to Ocean City? I think it was after our junior year of high school. Do you remember that?” Drew asked.

“Yeah, how could I forget? We banged that surfer chick, the one working the Italian ice stand on Pennsylvania and 13
^th
Street.”

“Janice,” replied Drew.

“What’s that, bro?”

“I said ‘Janice.’ Her name was Janice. You always have a hard time remembering the names of the woman you fuck. Why is that, Brian?”

He stood and split the blinds with two fingers. Brian scanned the street below for Drew. He looked at the sidewalk on both sides for any sign of his friend. He saw none. “Do you remember them?”

“Yep. Easy.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause it’s only Molly.”

Brian laughed and shook his head. “We fucked many hos, man, you and I.”

“Did ya ever see me ‘fucking the hos’?”

Brian stopped and turned away from the window, his eyes locked on the peephole of his front door. He thought he heard the muffled puff of air trapped when a car door shuts. “That’d be gay. I wouldn’t stick around to see yer schlong.”

“Well, there ya have it, Brian. I lied about the other women. Never even touched Viv. Don’t get me wrong, she wanted me to plow her but I couldn’t do it. It’s always been Molly for me. Molly and only her.”

Brian thought he heard the door on the stairwell hit the bumper on the wall. Footsteps echoed off the tiled floor.

“Yeah, right. What about the chick on Fat Tuesday, the one you left with from the Irish Pub on Forbes Avenue?”

“Walked her home. She stuck her tongue in my mouth and I turned and vaulted over the hedges and onto the sidewalk. I fucking ran from her sorority house like I was on fire.”

Brian stood with the phone held to his right ear. He shuffled across the room towards the door, keeping his eyes locked on the door knob. The button appeared to be depressed, but he could not be sure until he took another couple of steps.

“You still with me, Brian?” asked Drew, his turn to make sure the conversation had not ended prematurely.

“Yeah, man. I’m still here,” he replied. “Where did you say you were?”

“I didn’t.”

“So where you headed?”

“Thought I’d swing by, hang with you for a bit.”

Brian reached for the doorknob and felt the cool brass button flush with the knob. The knob was locked, for what it was worth. “Okay. I mean, that’s cool. I thought you didn’t want to, but that’s fine.”

“I said I didn’t want to watch zombie movies with you. That didn’t mean two old, loyal friends can’t hang out, right?”

Brian stepped back from the door and pulled a tissue from the box on the bookcase. He used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Unless you’ve got someone over there right now. That would be embarrassing, me showing up while you’ve got one in the sack, sucking you off.”

“Nope. Nobody’s here, Drew.”

Brian heard a deep breath and then the digital chime of a car alerting the owner that the keys were in the ignition and the door was open. A loud thump cut the sound and Brian thought he heard footsteps in the hallway again.

“Great.”

The front of the apartment door shook. The knocking rattled the door and several of the framed pictures on the thin walls. Brian dropped the phone on the bed and stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of athletic shorts off of the chair and a dirty T-shirt from the floor. In one motion, Brian pulled the shirt over his head and straightened his hair.

“Yeah?” Brian asked through the locked door.

“Made it. Came to hang.”

Brian winced. Drew’s voice sounded heavy, strained, as if he tried covering his stress with slang. It was not working. “I’m coming.”

“That’s what she said, eh?”

Brian shrugged at the tired joke and reached for the doorknob. He opened it. Drew stood before him. Brian recognized his friend, but barely. Drew’s hair lay plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck. His eyes darted back and forth, set in their sockets like two hardened glints of obsidian. Several puffy lines ran along his cheek with a dark line of oozing blood in the middle, as if someone had clawed at his face. Dried blood filled his nostrils. Drew’s T-shirt clung to his frame with a slick covering of sweat. The shirt had many small holes on the chest and stomach. Drew’s arms hung listlessly at his sides.

“Hey, Bri,” Drew said. The words came out slurred and fuzzy, as if Drew sported a two-beer buzz.

“Sup, man. C’mon in.”

Brian stood aside and held the doorknob in one hand. He used the other to wave Drew into the apartment. Once Drew shuffled past, Brian stuck his head into the hallway. It was empty except for a bag of trash Ms. Zuckerman set outside her door. The old bitch was constantly stinking up the hallway with her cabbage leftovers and the super never did anything about it. He tucked the complaint into the back of his mind for the next time rent was due and pulled the door shut.

Drew stood in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on Brian’s bed. His breathing was slight, as if he were sleeping.

“Have a seat, bro,” Brian said.

Drew looked at him and it made Brian shiver.    “On the bed? In your cum stain? Don’t think so.”

He walked over to the kitchen area and sat down at the table. The rickety chair crackled with protest, the 70s vinyl hissing as the air escaped from the foam cushion.

“Got a beer?”

Brian nodded and walked to the fridge. He opened the door and reached in for the last bottle on the top shelf.

Got nothing to offer him after this, at least. Maybe he’ll go,
Brian thought. “Here, man. Twist off.”

Brian watched Drew’s fingers wrap around the bottle. He took it to his mouth and drank. Drew’s throat constricted and he coughed, spewing a fine mist of ale into the air.

“Easy does it, man.”

Drew’s eyes filled with tears and he coughed again. “Got some shit in my lungs still.”

Brian turned his head sideways and looked at Drew. “Smoke?”

“Nope. Chemical burn.”

“What you been up to today that gave you chemical burn in your lungs?”

Drew waved his hand as if whisking another round of gasping coughs through his system. “Disposal,” he replied.

Brian stood, not bothering to ask for clarification.

“Can you see him?” Drew asked.

Brian giggled and looked around the apartment. The news ended and one of the afternoon talk shows was beginning. With the volume muted he imagined the sound of the host’s voice as she interviewed another woman, much like two clucking hens. He turned back to Drew. “See who?”

Drew laughed, which triggered more coughing. He tipped the beer bottle back, took another swig, and then threw it at the wall next to the refrigerator. The glass burst like a balloon and shards ricocheted off the other appliances. The neck of the bottle landed on the floor between them and spun clockwise until it stopped, aiming at the stove.