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Authors: Paul Lederer
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baseball cap.’
‘Who is he?’
‘His name’s Don. I don’t know his last name. He comes in here now and then for a few beers,’ Ike shrugged, ‘that’s all I know.’
Someone at the end of the bar was spinning an empty bottle to catch his attention. He glanced that way and held up a hand to ask for patience.
‘The ambulance took her to the hospital?’ Raymond asked.
‘Sure did. She knocked her head real good. Split it right open. Be surprised if she doesn’t need twenty stitches.’
Shit
. Well, it really was no surprise.
‘Which hospital did they take her to?’
‘They didn’t say. It would be County General, wouldn’t it? That’s the closest one around. That’s all I know.’
‘OK,’ Raymond took a step away and then turned back toward the bar, ‘that young guy – how did he know her? Was he drinking with her?’
‘I don’t know, Mister,’ Ike said, ‘I don’t watch who comes and goes, what they’re doing unless they’re making trouble.’
‘Ike!’ The man with the empty beer bottle was growing impatient.
‘I’m coming! Sorry, pal,’ he said to Raymond, ‘I told you all I know.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Raymond muttered, and he started out of the bar, wondering who the young guy was. He must have known Ellen. What did the bartender say his name was? Oh well, it probably made no difference. They always had names, but usually Ellen never knew what they were. Number Four, line up, take a number….
He slammed the bar door behind him and went out into the day which suddenly was glaringly bright, the sun spraying golden light through the rifts in the drifting, parting clouds. Looking seaward the ocean seemed blue again. A storm crew’s street-sweeping machine bumbled along the road, picking up blown leaves and papers.
What now? The hell with Ellen! There was no point at all in chasing her down at the hospital. The only reasonablething to do was to find Edward and tell him where she was so that the contracts could be signed. And to find Sarah.
Who was that kid?
It was totally illogical after all of his absent years that Ellen could still raise a rage in him, some sort of residual jealousy. What could you call that?
Dumb.
He climbed into the Buick convertible and fiercely banged the door shut. He sat there for a long minute, trying to sort through his thoughts. Still a few occasional raindrops plopped against the windshield. The big orange street-sweeping machine swung around him and continued on, brushes swirling with lazy competence.
‘OK,’ he said to himself with sudden decision, ‘find Edward.’ He would let him know what was going on; sign the contracts himself. Find a room somewhere and hole up until the checks were cut and he could blow this town. By no means talk to Eric again….
Find Sarah.
Ellen, the bitch, had run off and left his little girl in the streets in the rain and … a sudden thought interrupted his angry brooding: the kid. Now, who was this guy, and if he knew who Ellen was, mightn’t he know something about Sarah? It was possible. He wasn’t long gone, this Don guy. Raymond thought he should be able to catch him and ask him, if he was walking. Which way had the kid gone?
Starting the Buick’s engine, Raymond stared southward in the direction the sweeper had gone. He looked northward in his mirror, frowning. Which way? Flip a coin. He droppedthe car into gear and pulled a slithering U-turn across the boulevard, cutting off a woman in a yellow Thunderbird. He roared northward, back up the damp road in the direction of Dennison’s offices.
‘Is that the guy?’ Edward asked Eric.
He could see a young blond guy in a green jacket, red baseball cap tugged low, plodding up the hill toward them, his hands thrust into his pockets, face grim.
‘I don’t know,’ Eric said, ‘I think maybe it is.’
‘Hey!’ Edward called across the street. Rainwater still rushed past in the gutters. The young man looked up at him. ‘Yeah, you! Wait a
‘Who is he?’
‘His name’s Don. I don’t know his last name. He comes in here now and then for a few beers,’ Ike shrugged, ‘that’s all I know.’
Someone at the end of the bar was spinning an empty bottle to catch his attention. He glanced that way and held up a hand to ask for patience.
‘The ambulance took her to the hospital?’ Raymond asked.
‘Sure did. She knocked her head real good. Split it right open. Be surprised if she doesn’t need twenty stitches.’
Shit
. Well, it really was no surprise.
‘Which hospital did they take her to?’
‘They didn’t say. It would be County General, wouldn’t it? That’s the closest one around. That’s all I know.’
‘OK,’ Raymond took a step away and then turned back toward the bar, ‘that young guy – how did he know her? Was he drinking with her?’
‘I don’t know, Mister,’ Ike said, ‘I don’t watch who comes and goes, what they’re doing unless they’re making trouble.’
‘Ike!’ The man with the empty beer bottle was growing impatient.
‘I’m coming! Sorry, pal,’ he said to Raymond, ‘I told you all I know.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Raymond muttered, and he started out of the bar, wondering who the young guy was. He must have known Ellen. What did the bartender say his name was? Oh well, it probably made no difference. They always had names, but usually Ellen never knew what they were. Number Four, line up, take a number….
He slammed the bar door behind him and went out into the day which suddenly was glaringly bright, the sun spraying golden light through the rifts in the drifting, parting clouds. Looking seaward the ocean seemed blue again. A storm crew’s street-sweeping machine bumbled along the road, picking up blown leaves and papers.
What now? The hell with Ellen! There was no point at all in chasing her down at the hospital. The only reasonablething to do was to find Edward and tell him where she was so that the contracts could be signed. And to find Sarah.
Who was that kid?
It was totally illogical after all of his absent years that Ellen could still raise a rage in him, some sort of residual jealousy. What could you call that?
Dumb.
He climbed into the Buick convertible and fiercely banged the door shut. He sat there for a long minute, trying to sort through his thoughts. Still a few occasional raindrops plopped against the windshield. The big orange street-sweeping machine swung around him and continued on, brushes swirling with lazy competence.
‘OK,’ he said to himself with sudden decision, ‘find Edward.’ He would let him know what was going on; sign the contracts himself. Find a room somewhere and hole up until the checks were cut and he could blow this town. By no means talk to Eric again….
Find Sarah.
Ellen, the bitch, had run off and left his little girl in the streets in the rain and … a sudden thought interrupted his angry brooding: the kid. Now, who was this guy, and if he knew who Ellen was, mightn’t he know something about Sarah? It was possible. He wasn’t long gone, this Don guy. Raymond thought he should be able to catch him and ask him, if he was walking. Which way had the kid gone?
Starting the Buick’s engine, Raymond stared southward in the direction the sweeper had gone. He looked northward in his mirror, frowning. Which way? Flip a coin. He droppedthe car into gear and pulled a slithering U-turn across the boulevard, cutting off a woman in a yellow Thunderbird. He roared northward, back up the damp road in the direction of Dennison’s offices.
‘Is that the guy?’ Edward asked Eric.
He could see a young blond guy in a green jacket, red baseball cap tugged low, plodding up the hill toward them, his hands thrust into his pockets, face grim.
‘I don’t know,’ Eric said, ‘I think maybe it is.’
‘Hey!’ Edward called across the street. Rainwater still rushed past in the gutters. The young man looked up at him. ‘Yeah, you! Wait a
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