Shadow Season (15 page)

The girls are chattering. He concentrates so he can separate the voices. Only three of them. Jesse Ellison and the Smyths. When talking among themselves the girls sound so much different than when they’re speaking in class, or even out of class in the company of adults. It’s surprising the extent to which the characteristics of their voices vary.

He listens, breathing them in. The fruity soaps, acne creams, veggie body washes, the hair spray, perfumes, hints of cherry lipstick, powders. They fill him.

Jimmy Stewart is cut off in midsentence. The music continues. With the kind of glee reserved for tattletales, Jesse says, “Cable’s out.”

Finn’s a secret sharer in their experiences. They welcome the chance to pass notes back and forth during class, sneak around the room, slip out the door, whisper while holding cupped hands to one another’s ears, roll their eyes, make faces. They act out and he pretends not to notice, like they’re all performing on a stage for someone in the audience, some cat seated in seventh row center. There’s no need to blow their action. Kids need a chance to pull some kind of shit on the teacher, and he’s an easy mark. Everybody’s got a right to be as much of an outlaw as they want to be, so long as they don’t cry foul if they get nabbed for it.

It’s a comforting thought and puts a lot of his life into perspective, especially right now as he sneaks a chance to overhear them. There’s a lot of air freshener and incense, but he can still smell the cheap whiskey on their breath and the sweet stink of a couple of joints. He vaguely wonders why Caitlin and Lea don’t share the good stuff. He listens to their puerile conversations, their poor grammar, their self-absorbed dialogue. Somehow it makes him a little happier.

As Finn enters, there’s some wild scrambling and then a communal sigh of relief. They were worried it might be Judith or Duchess. But Finn is only a minor inconvenience.

Suzy Smyth says, “It’s okay, it’s just Big Daddy-o.”

“He’s not here to break up the shindig,” Sally adds, “he’s just a boy who’s come a bit late to the dance, right, Mr. Finn?”

“Hopefully my invite is still good.”

“For you, right up to the midnight hour.”

“Ladies, let me give you a life lesson early on. Always go the extra few bucks for single malt. And post a sentry.”

The three of them explode into laughter. Jesse Ellison’s is way over the top. Maybe she’s a little lit or high, maybe she’s trying to sound more earthy and present. When he used to get drunk as a teen he tried to sound like his old man, and she’s probably going for her mother.

She knows he hates loud music and lowers the stereo. She gets in close. She’s taken care of the cut on her hand. He can’t smell it much anymore. The past wavers nearby, like it might break through at any second. It’s just waiting for a drop of blood.

“Take your coat off, Mr. Finn. Would you like a drink?” She presses a styrofoam cup at his chest, but he doesn’t take it. He figures that no matter how much trouble he’s in, he can always get into more. He leaves his coat on.

“Thanks anyway, Jesse.”

“It’s only eggnog.”

“But you’re drinking beer. One of the microbrews.”

“Jeez, Mr. Finn …”

“And you’ve tasted some Four Roses. It’s hell. It was hell when I drank it as a kid. Don’t make the same mistake.”

“Jeez, Mr. Finn!”

Suzy says, “It’s all we could get.”

“And here I thought I was supposed to bring the keg. You girls have been stockpiling.”

Jesse leans in so unsteadily that she nearly loses her balance. She’s got to put her hand out and brace herself against his stomach to keep from falling over. He sniffs again. She can’t really be that drunk so soon, can she? No, just klutzy. “It was me,” she whispers. “I got a couple of six-packs.”

“I told you, I won’t narc on anybody.”

“That’s why we love you. There’s some munchies too. Would you like some chips or pretzels? I think there’s some cheese curls over there too…yeah, we’ve got a bag. Duchess made onion dip this afternoon.”

His stomach growls but he figures he can hold out for a fresh ham sandwich. “No thanks, Jesse.”

“I started
Slaughterhouse-Five.”

“When? I only gave it to you this morning.”

“It’s brilliant. The way Vonnegut weaves his own introduction into the novel itself. And casts himself as a character in the book? He only shows up a couple of times but it’s great when he does. It gives the whole book the feel of a memoir. He even says most of it happened. The real parts, you know, not the alien stuff and the time slippage.”

She’s grinning, and her breath is a touch rapid. The little gusts of heat break against the hollow of Finn’s throat. It tickles, makes him reach up and scratch. She’s the only student who cares about anything he says and he almost feels sorry for her because she does.

“Do you know where Nurse Martell is?” he asks.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.”

It makes him frown, something he never did as a cop but does a lot now.

Sally Smyth is talking about her college boyfriend
back home, whose name is Reginald. Finn thinks about the weight of all your forefathers coming down to burden and humiliate you with a name like Reginald. Sally is angry with the kid because he wants to change majors from engineering to architecture. Jesse asks what’s so wrong with that and Sally barks, “You know how many architects can swing a house off Central Park South?” Finn has no idea, he figured they were all pretty much in the same tax bracket. Jesse turns and offers some murmured condolences as if somebody’s dead.

“Sally?” he asks. “Have you seen Nurse Martell?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Suzy?”

“I’m not sure. No. Not for a while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t she have dinner with us?”

“No.”

“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t notice. You got the heebie-jeebies, Dad? She’s got to be around, right?”

Sally asks, “Where the hell are Caitlin and Lea?”

“Doing their own thing tonight,” Suzy says in a sharp, not so confiding whisper. Finn is privy even to their implied secrets.

He turns to go. She tells him, “Mr. Finn, come on, you’re not leaving us here all stag are you?”

“Big Daddy-o wouldn’t do that to his janes. That’s not his action.”

“Way not the cut of his jib.”

“Sorry, girls,” he says. “It’s just not a Christmas party if Jimmy Stewart isn’t saving Bedford Falls from evil Mr. Potter.”

“Not our fault the stupid cable went out.”

“You should all own a personal copy of the DVD.”

“How square!”

“Failing that, there’s no excuse for not having
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
either.”

“You’re nuts, Mr. Finn.”

“Way out there.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he admits.

Murphy steps into the suite and says, “A party, is it? Will you take in anyone off the street or is it by invitation only?”

“It depends,” Suzy says. “Do you have a character reference?”

“Dozens,” Murph tells her. “And not one would give me a passing grade.”

“Then you’re our kind of people,” Sally says. “Load up.”

“You’ve hearts as large as a heavenly choir of angels, every one of you.”

“Not so much some of us.”

“Then you truly are my people. Eggnog, is it?”

“Look around, Santa may have left a few presents early.”

“Bless his bloated heart.”

Someone hands Murph a cup. There’s a pregnant pause in the room, a sure indication that some kind of sign language is going down—the girls giving Murph the hidden hard liquor. Murph accepting it graciously, no doubt with a cunning smile.

The girls respond accordingly, with some overindulgent giggles and a few flirtatious tsks. Murphy really works the brogue. Finn figures that with every sip of
liquor Murph is consciously or unconsciously telling his ma that he hopes she burns in hell.

The girls waft off, back on the subject of Sally’s engineer.

Murph asks, “And are you enjoying yourself, Finn?”

“Certainly.”

Murph snorts. “Nothing certain about it, though this is a cheerful crowd. A trio of lasses has a way of brightening a room, even when the world outside is being battered. The sky is splitting and heaving, and you’d never know for their smiles.”

It’s the truth. The surrounding warmth of the living makes Finn almost feel like he belongs among them.

“Have you seen Roz?” he asks.

“No. Nor Duchess nor Judith, although there’s two other wans on the stairs who seem to be a dash out of sorts. Odd girls, those. They live off in another room, as me ma might say.” Murph takes a sip and shudders violently enough that his teeth clack together. “Gah, dreadful. Wealthy wans like these ought to have better taste.” He huffs like he’s warming his hands.

“I’m worried,” Finn says.

“About?”

“Roz.”

“And why’s that?”

“She left to go do something.”

“She left campus? When?”

“A couple hours ago.”

“To do what?”

“She said she was going to the store.”

“Which store?”

“I don’t know.”

“For what reason, now?”

“I have no idea.”

“That is worrying. But don’t let it eat at you. She drove off into the storm?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You only think so. Perhaps she’s back already. Does she have a mobile?”

“A what?”

“A cellular phone.”

“No. Did you see her car in the lot?”

Murph thinks about it, snapping his tongue off his front teeth. “To be honest, Finn, I’ve no idea. I didn’t take notice. Doesn’t mean it’s not there, though. I’d give good odds that she’s returned.”

“If not, she might be stuck. How bad’s the accumulation?”

“Four inches or so, and piling on. It’s fierce and dark out there now.”

“Her car can’t handle much more than that on un-plowed roads.”

Murph goes on. “I’ll do a bit more clearing of the parking lots and take a look-see. Hopefully the county workers will help out with some further salting and sanding on the main roads. She’s a good girl, she knows her way about in this weather.” He tries to hand a cup of whiskey to Finn, and Murph’s hands are so cold that Finn flinches. Murph lets out a chuckle. “I’m halfway to frozen still. A few warming drinks should help me on that front, it’s my belief. You’ll not have any?”

“No thanks.”

“I’m sure your Rosie’s fine, perhaps having a bite
with Duchess. Wrapping presents with Judith, it’s a woman’s way.”

“If not?”

“I said I’d take a look about.”

“Thanks, Murph.”

“Don’t be a tosser.”

Finn wants to ask Murphy if he was in his apartment earlier, and if so what it was that fell, who it was that had fallen, and why he didn’t let Finn in when he knocked. He wants to know if Murph’s been screwing around with Harley Moon. If he hurt her. If maybe he’s having an affair with Roz. He called her Rosie. Almost nobody knows that her name is Rose, that she likes to be called that in bed. The questions writhe within him and prod him toward anger. His back muscles contract and he suddenly wants to slap the shit out of Murphy.

The girls are still chattering together on the other side of the suite. Maybe twenty feet off, but the generational tide has strong enough currents that he and Murph are being drawn away. Sally is talking about her boyfriend again. Jesse wants to know more. Their voices lower, their laughter explodes. Finn constantly has to remind himself how young they all are, how much they don’t know, how much they’ll never know, and how much more they know that he never will.

Murphy looks over, looks back, his neck clicking loudly. He says, “Breaks my heart, they do. All of life is perched before them, innit? They’ve the entire road left ahead. So many firsts that’ll cause them such suffering, and give them so much joy. Pity the lads that will have their hearts snatched.”

Murphy has told a lot of stories, but so far Finn
hasn’t heard the big one about what’s brought him to America and St. Val’s. What he expects out of life from this point on, what he might be saving his money for, if he’s got any. Finn wonders if, despite all the bullshit soap opera, Murph isn’t simply biding his time until Judith splits from her husband, just so he can move in on her, get married, and then nab half of everything that belongs to her.

It’s a heavy step to take, asking an Irishman about his personal life. Murphy’s told him intimate details about his past, but always on his own terms. The few times Finn ever questioned him, Murph completely withdrew, his voice emotionless, saying, Shite, I’ve nothing to say on that.

Finn reaches out and gently grabs Murph’s arm. “Do you know Harley Moon?”

“Is this a song title you’re asking about? It’s nothing by The Cramps.”

“No, a town girl.”

“Do I know a town girl? I know many, but none by the name of Harley. You’ve quite the grip on you. Strong hands those are.”

“A teenager. She was on campus this afternoon.”

“I saw no one on campus except the students and their families leaving for their holiday. You sound a mite irritated, Finn.”

“I’m not.”

“You mind letting me loose now or is it your plan that we dance?”

Finn doesn’t let go. The noise around them, the presence of the girls, the smell of whiskey, the constant presence of Judith hidden somewhere in the wings, the
fact that Roz is still gone, it all works to keep him on edge.

Four inches, the Comet can bulldog through that, but just barely. If she’s not back soon—what, he’ll drag Murph by the ear and force him to go scout for her? Suddenly it feels imperative that he knows more about Murphy.

He asks, “What’s brought you here?”

“To the party? Drink, of course.”

“To the school. To America.”

Murph grunts like he’s just taken a jab to the kidneys. He snaps his arm free. “I’ve nothing to say about—”

“How about if you just answer the fucking question?”

It takes him a while to respond. “I had notions,” Murphy says.

It means more than it sounds like, but Finn doesn’t know why. He can tell by the way the word hangs there, full of meaning and substance.

“Notions?”

“I wanted to rise above my station. I wanted more than I should’ve settled for on Galway Bay. There, we’re rooted in our shite history and accept our lot. The priests and nuns teach us not to exceed ourselves. I didn’t want to be like me ma, who spent her mornings and afternoons in church, keeping her evenings free and brisk by spitting venom about. Or like my da, who enjoyed a book while feeding the swans, and seemed a happy man right to the day he jumped from the bridge with rocks in his pockets. I decided I wanted to go to Miami and live in the sun with the rich Americans.”