Читать книгу: «Bitter Sun», страница 5

I passed the butt to Gloria who took a short puff, followed by a cough. She never quite got the hang of it. We didn’t bother offering it to Jenny, she always said no.

But today, Jenny snatched the joe right out of Gloria’s hand. Took a drag. Too long, too deep. Blasts of grey smoke, one, two, cough up your lungs, then she spat. Rudy’s eyes bugged. Gloria cough-giggled. And I just stared.

‘Momma will smell it on you,’ I said.

In response, Jenny took another pull. The orange tip blazed.

‘Don’t care,’ she said, coughed some more.

The buzz was back in her bones. She shifted, tried to get comfortable on the ground. Raised her cut leg, rested it on a flat rock, then decided not and drew her knees to her chest. Rudy plucked the joe from her fingers and showed her how to hold it, how to breathe it in.

If anyone should be showing my sister how to pull on a joe, it was me but I didn’t move to take over. I was still wary of Jenny, still confused by her behaviour, felt like for the first time in our whole lives, I didn’t know my own sister.

Gloria refused another drag, tapping her foot with impatience.

Rudy noticed and, with a smile, kept the conversation away from her.

‘Heard you’re seeing the pastor tomorrow,’ he said to me.

‘Heard right.’

‘What are you going to talk about?’ he asked, ground the butt out on a rock and tucked the end in his shirt pocket. Rudy didn’t litter. He said it made the world ugly.

‘The body I guess,’ I said.

Rudy laughed. ‘Watch he don’t quote Bible at you. Did that to me once, some Sunday. He took me outside after, asked me where my old man was. I said he was working but you know that’s a lie.’

Nobody quite knew what Rudy’s dad did, one job one winter, another through the summer, selling, buying, this and that. Can’t quite put your finger on it. Ask around Larson what Bung-Eye Buchanan was up to and they’d walk the other way. One of those Town Truths everybody knew, like the secret of the Three Points.

‘Pastor Jacobs took me round the side of the church, away from people, then squatted down beside me like he was readying a shit. He asked me if I knew where my dad was this Sunday. When I said no, Jacobs, he said,’ Rudy shuffled, raised up his hands, took on the pastor’s mannerisms, ‘he said, “Rudy, one day you’ll tell me the truth. The more you lie, the longer the devil’s roots grow inside you. Proverbs teaches us that a false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speaketh lies shall perish.”’

Rudy laughed, Jenny said the pastor was a creep. I bit my tongue.

‘I won’t forget that,’ Rudy said, ‘long as I live. Every time he sees me he asks about my old man, he’s got some kind of obsession with him,’ another laugh. An almost beautiful sound but for its sour edge, a strawberry picked too early.

‘He asks after your dad too,’ he said to Gloria and she sighed, arms crossed over her chest.

‘Maybe he’s got a thing for old Wakefield,’ I teased, ‘wants to hold hands and kiss him.’

Rudy made smooching sounds and Gloria punched him in the arm, called us both gross.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, ‘must be Mrs Wakefield. That red dress she had on at the parade raised a few eyebrows.’

Jenny laughed; it sounded hot and strained from first-time smoke. ‘Not just eyebrows. Gloria’s mom walking down Main Street in those dresses of hers raises a whole lot else, especially with Mayor Wills.’ She wolf-whistled and grinned wide.

‘That’s the least of it going round town about dear Mother,’ Gloria said with another sigh.

‘Your mom’s got more lipsticks than a New York tranny, and the jugs to match.’ Rudy slapped his knee and filled the forest with laughter. Birds fled their perches and I waited for Gloria to skin the boy alive.

‘You’re a jerk, Rudy Buchanan, you know that?’ she said.

‘But you love me still.’ He puckered up and planted a fat kiss on her cheek. A red blush spread over them both.

‘I hereby declare it, Gloria’s got half my heart,’ then he jumped up and grabbed Jenny’s hand, kissed it. ‘Jenny has the other half and Johnny has my whole butt!’

Then he pulled his shorts down, showed off his backside. We all screamed and fell about laughing.

Rudy the charmer. Rudy the handsome prince. Rudy had more hearts carved into trees around Larson than anyone, at least that’s what he said. But it was never a brag. He could say, I’m the best-looking guy in three counties, and you’d nod along.

There weren’t any girls in Larson carving a heart around my name.

‘Enough bullshit, you guys. Can we talk about what we came here to talk about?’ Gloria said. ‘Rudy, tell them what you told me earlier.’

Rudy went quiet, all the joking gone. ‘After you guys left the Backhoe yesterday, I stuck around. After the parade, everyone went to the football field for the fireworks. That’s when Samuels and that skinny one, Robin or Roberts, whatever, came in for their two-dozen doughnut snack. That sheriff, man, two bites and poof, no more doughnut, now you see it,’ Rudy waved his hands like a party magician, ‘now you don’t.’

‘So what?’ I said. ‘Samuels is a lard-ass, that isn’t a secret.’

‘Shut up. Point is the place was empty and they didn’t see me at the next booth, just minding my own with my chocolate shake. They were talking hush hush but I could hear them.’

‘What did they say?’ Jenny asked, rapt.

Rudy leant forward, like we’d be overheard out here. Ears in the trees, eyes in the leaves.

‘They were talking about when they found the girl,’ his eyes flicked to me. ‘Robin said the doctor who examined the body said she was maybe sixteen or seventeen.’

Four years, if that, older than us. I felt a lump grow in my throat. Gloria nodded along to the story.

‘Shit,’ I said, ‘that it?’

‘Messed up, huh?’

‘Do they know who she is yet?’ Jenny asked.

‘If they did, it’d be all round town,’ Gloria said.

Jenny shuffled closer to me, awkward with her leg. She scratched at a smear of dried blood on my t-shirt. ‘I can’t believe they don’t know her name.’

‘It’s awful, just awful,’ Gloria said.

‘She’s just … nothing,’ I said. ‘Without a name they can’t do anything. They can’t tell her mom or dad, or have a funeral without anything to put on the headstone. But it’s just a couple of made-up words, they could give her a new name if nobody claims her.’

‘Names are everything, Johnny,’ Rudy said with a scowl. ‘Those made-up words are all some idiot needs to brand you a no good thief or a pussy. Sure you can sign a piece of paper and change it, but that’s just like putting on a pair of pants. You still got an arsehole underneath. Bet some folk in town think all sorts about the Royals, especially now you’ve been sleeping with dead bodies.’

Rudy, all flashing smiles and eyes, threw a twig at me. I threw one back.

‘Shut it, Buchanan.’

Gloria snapped her fingers like old Mr Frome did when we were horsing about in biology class. ‘Shut up both of you. Rudy, keep going.’

He stuck out his tongue at her then carried on. ‘The sheriff said the doctor reckons she’d only been in the water two or three days but dead for four or five. At the most.’

‘How did she get in our lake? Who knows it’s even there?’ Jenny said.

‘She must have been dumped elsewhere and, like … dislodged her upstream.’ Gloria raised her hands. ‘Samuels hasn’t got a clue.’

‘Get this,’ Rudy said. ‘Samuels said something about paint. He said they couldn’t find a match to the green paint they found on her back. Did you guys notice any paint?’

We shook our heads. We hadn’t seen her back. We’d dragged her and laid her out face up. Maybe she’d been lying in spilled paint that mostly got washed away.

‘It gets worse,’ Gloria said.

Rudy leaned in, pointing and stabbing at the air with a twig for emphasis. ‘That lardo’s too lazy to even go looking for her. It’d take too much time away from stuffing his face. Samuels said, word for fucking word, “Let’s check the missing person notices, if there ain’t nothing there, fuck it.” Fuck it, he said.’

Disgust transformed Jenny’s face. ‘He’s going to give up? That was a bullet hole, right? Someone killed her, didn’t they?’

Gloria punched the ground. ‘Exactly.’

‘How can nobody care?’ Jenny rested her head on the wall, puffed out a sigh.

None of us had an answer to that. It deflated us. Maybe some cop in Mora’s town was fretting, wringing his hands and sticking her picture on a pin board while our cops were scratching their balls.

Gloria stood up, brushed off her skirt. ‘That’s why I asked you here. We are going to solve the murder.’

‘What?’ I asked. This was the big idea? The plan she couldn’t talk about in the Backhoe?

Gloria nodded. ‘We have to find out who she is and who hurt her. Someone has to.’

‘Stellar!’ Rudy jumped up.

Jenny’s eyes widened. ‘I’m in.’

‘If Samuels can’t find out who she is, what makes you think four kids can?’ I said. I didn’t want to go digging, I didn’t want to see pictures of Mora, I didn’t want more rumours circulating. I didn’t want to see what that would do to Jenny.

‘Samuels isn’t looking,’ Gloria said. ‘He’s just ticking boxes. If he really wanted to find out what happened, he could. Everyone in this town knows everyone’s business.’

‘She’s right.’ Rudy stuck his hands on his hips. ‘Someone will know something. People don’t talk to cops.’

‘People don’t talk to kids either,’ I shot back.

Then Jenny pushed herself up. ‘We have to, Johnny. She can’t be nothing. She can’t be nobody.’

‘This is stupid.’

Jenny folded her arms, just like Momma did when she was about to shout. ‘It’s not stupid. You’re stupid. What kind of people are we if we do nothing?’

Bad people. Just like Samuels. Just like whoever did it. I clenched my teeth. Three pairs of eyes on me. Waiting.

‘Fine. Fine.’

Rudy let out a whoop. ‘Let’s do this! What’s first?’

The question was directed at me.

‘Oh right, you want me to solve the murder?’ I glared at them, at Jenny.

‘You’re the practical one, Johnny,’ Gloria said, nudged my shoulder with a smile.

The others had the ideas, I worked out how to make them happen. It was me who drew up plans, with a stick in the dirt, for constructing the Fort, me who worked out how to dam the river and make Big Lake. Now it was me they looked to again. Identify a dead body, solve a murder, catch a killer. Easy as that. Jesus.

I rubbed the back of my neck, slick with summer sweat. ‘In the books the detectives always go back to the beginning.’

‘Where’s that?’ Jenny asked.

‘Where all this started,’ I said. ‘Big Lake, of course. We should follow the river upstream and see if we can find the place she was dumped. Maybe we’ll find something the cops missed.’

‘When?’ Gloria asked, looked at Rudy and Jenny.

I stole a look at my sister. She was almost trembling, her fingers working in the dirt, clawing thin furrows, raking at broken leaves. She didn’t seem to notice her nails darkening with mud. After the rock fight, and now Jenny itching in her skin to investigate a murder, I didn’t have the heart for searching tonight. But I couldn’t say, my sister is going mad, I need to get her home.

So I made an excuse. ‘It’s too late now. We’re out of daylight. Tomorrow, after school. I’ll meet you outside when I’m done with the pastor. Jenny and me have to get home now.’

Jenny frowned, went to argue but thought better when she saw my expression.

‘Momma will be waiting,’ Jenny said.

‘Tomorrow then?’ Gloria nodded.

I sighed out the word, ‘Tomorrow.’

Jenny and me left Rudy and Gloria as the sky turned gold. Must have been close to eight when we cut through the forest onto the back Barton road, the dirt track that ran behind Wakefield land. Word was the road led all the way to Paradise Hill, through the scrubland east of Larson. There were all kinds of hidden roads around here, all kinds of paths you could take and never be seen. We turned west on Barton without having to think. You don’t go east. Another one of those Town Truths.

We went slow because of Jenny’s leg.

‘I don’t want to go through town, Johnny,’ she said, halfway along the track.

‘Me either. We can loop up to the railway line, cross up by the Hackett place.’

She held out her hand for me to help her. I took her weight, just as blood began to seep through the dressing on her knee. I hurried us, the starlings would soon be flocking.

This route home would take us an hour longer than going through town but it was worth it. The Hackett land had a hill, a rare and precious feature in Barks County. It was the Island, salvation in a sea of wheat. Our path took us right up and over.

From the top of the Island the land swept down onto a flat plain. The view always reminded me of that moment when you lift and flick a blanket to lay it neatly on the bed. The moment it curls upward, the perfect, effortless curve, made by the air and the weight of the cloth.

The top of the hill gave one of the only full views of Larson for miles. The white, bulbous water tower dominated the east side of town, the Easton grain elevator rose up in the north, and spiked in the centre of town, the wooden church spire. Then Larson spread out in squares, Main Street and Monroe and Cypress, until it gave way to swaying corn and fences, hemming us in. But up here, on the Island, it was as if the world had fought back and drove a fist up through the rock and soil, made this little piece unworkable, unchangeable, left it for the wildflowers and meadow grass to flourish. I stood at the top with my sister and breathed in the higher air, like I was breathing in a taste of another world.

‘Johnny,’ Jenny grabbed my arm, ‘Johnny look, the birds.’

I turned to where she was pointing, down the slope, far off to where the field met the road. There, above power lines and fences, a great flock of starlings pulsed in the sky. Dark specks wheeled across the field, outstanding against the colour of the evening. They dipped down to the top of the wheat then surged upward as one. A rolling boil of wings and thrumming bodies. It was gasoline flicked into water, the swirling pattern of it changed with every blink, every ripple.

‘I love them,’ I said.

‘I do too.’

‘Why did you go back to the body?’ A sudden burst of nerves grew in my gut. Why did you say that, Johnny? Where did that come from?

You know where.

Jenny turned to me, cheeks reddening, squirming embarrassment in her eyes. ‘I …’

‘I’m sorry. I just … I need to know.’

Her jaw clenched. ‘I wanted to see …’ tears rolled down her cheeks, every word was forced, ‘I wanted to see what would happen to me if a fight ever … if she drank too much … I don’t know. It was dumb. Forget it.’

She turned away from me and back to the birds.

I hated what she said, it hurt some primal part of me and my instinct was to round on her. How can you say that? How can you think that? She loves you. She loves you more than you realise. You’ll see. But I stood still, silent, and a deep sadness washed over me. I took my sister’s hand and held it tight.

The flock danced for ten or so minutes then settled on a nearby stand of ash trees, foregoing the pylons and fence poles, instead filling the branches. A great big screw you to human handiwork.

With them settled, and unmoving, the sky was dull again, the land just flat and my sister seemed calm inside, smiling like the girl I knew. We started down the hillside, another mile and we’d be at the edge of Royal land.

7

When we got home the house was quiet. Momma’s truck was parked where it should have been instead of skewed in the middle of the yard. The dent from last week knocked out by some friend in town. Moths swarmed around the porch light and, inside, only the family room lamp was on.

I opened the front door to the yeast stink of beer and a gentle, rhythmic snoring from the armchair. Jenny, still angry at Momma, made quickly for the kitchen. She poured a glass of water with a couple of ice cubes from the freezer box, then hobbled upstairs. She didn’t care about making noise. Momma wouldn’t wake. I got myself a glass of water and, once Jenny was safely upstairs, I went to check on Momma. The TV fizzed on a blank channel and a line of smoke trailed up from the armchair.

Momma lay with her head on her shoulder and half a Marlboro burning to ash in her fingers. An empty six-pack of Old Milwaukee tall-boys on the floor.

‘Hi, Momma, I’m home,’ I whispered, trod lightly to her, picked the butt out of her hand. The pillar of ash collapsed onto the floor. An hour later and they’d have been scraping charred Momma off her chair.

When I shut the TV off she stirred. Didn’t open her eyes but knew I was there.

‘Hi, baby,’ she said, slurred and thick with sleep.

‘Hi, Momma.’ I took her empty hand in mine. ‘Let’s get you up to bed.’

‘Mmhmm.’

She let me pull her to standing. Put her arm around my shoulders and leaned hard on me but I could take it. She was my momma, my bones were built for carrying her. I don’t think she opened her eyes the entire way down the hall, up the stairs, into her room.

‘You’re such a good boy, John Royal,’ she said as I sat her down on the edge of her bed. ‘You’re my best thing.’

I knew Jenny could hear, right above us, and I knew Momma’s words would be like those stones hitting her all over again. The selfish part of me didn’t care and was still upset at Jenny for acting so strange so I didn’t try to hush Momma.

I kissed her on the forehead and guided her head to her pillow. It was too hot for blankets but I draped a sheet over her up to her waist. Momma always said she couldn’t sleep without her ass covered, even if she was sleeping in jeans.

As I turned to go, Momma found my hand. Eyes still closed, she shuffled over in bed and pulled me down beside her. Arm over me, her heat on my back, her breath on my neck. Smell of beer and sweat but I didn’t hate it. It was Momma smell.

‘I love you, John Royal. My best thing,’ she murmured right up close to my ear.

Jenny couldn’t have heard that.

‘I love you too, Momma.’

Then she squeezed me tight and we lay like that. Her breathing soon turned deep and slow, her arm became dead weight over me, pressing me down into the mattress.

A creak from the upstairs floorboards said Jenny rolled over in the bed we shared. I was giving her room, I thought, to stretch out her leg and not be bothered in the night. I fidget. I kick out sometimes. If I caught her knee with my heel I’d never forgive myself. Really, it was for the best I sleep down here.

It was hot as Hell that night and Momma’s sauced-up body heat doubled the sweat on me. But I didn’t move. I must have slept because I remember waking up. Momma’s snores in my ear and the blue dawn light in my eyes. And Jenny. Standing in the bedroom doorway, blazing. The bandage on her leg was red through and a river ran down her shin. Then she was gone and her footsteps, uneven with the limp, trailed off down the stairs. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of Momma, then, despite myself and all my will, I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke again Momma was gone. Sound of running water rushed up from the kitchen. I sprang out of bed, sticky and hot, and ran upstairs. No Jenny. Her leg needed attention, I needed to help her before her and Momma got into another fight. Where was she?

Downstairs, into the kitchen, and there. With Momma. I froze. Momma had filled up a basin and got some clean bandages. Jenny sat up on the kitchen table, wincing through a smile, while Momma redressed the wound.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ Momma said when she saw me.

She pinned the fresh bandage to Jenny’s knee then, to my shock and Jenny’s too, dipped her head and kissed it better.

‘You’ll have a hell of a scar to show, sweetpea,’ she said, not a hint of slurring or hangover.

I couldn’t move. Jenny and Momma, getting on, kindness and pet names. It was like I woke up and stumbled right into the Twilight Zone. That one with Barry Morse and the player piano that made people act strange when a roll was playing. I almost listened for the music. Don’t question it, Johnny, you’ll spook them.

‘Go on now, both of you,’ Momma said, ‘get ready for school. I’ll drop you both in.’

Jenny and me looked at each other then to Momma. Surprise must have been clear as glass in our faces because Momma clicked her fingers and said, ‘Go on, get.’

‘Thank you, Momma,’ Jenny said and I think she wanted to hug her then but something stopped her. Years of memories maybe, a survival instinct or something like it. Instead she slid off the table and we both got ready for school.

Momma drove us. Dropped us by the front doors.

‘Have a good day, babies,’ she said, hanging out the car window.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ we both said, climbing out the truck.

‘Be careful of strangers, you hear? After they found the poor girl by the lake, you don’t know who might be a killer in this town.’ Her eyes fell on Jenny. ‘The thought of anything happening to my babies …’ She shook her head, almost welled up, then waved to us and drove away.

I could count on one thumb the number of times Momma drove us to school. When she was gone, I couldn’t speak. This wasn’t the other side of the coin, this was a whole new coin on the spin.

‘What …’ Jenny started.

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘She was …’

‘I know. What did you say?’

Jenny shrugged. ‘She found me in the kitchen trying to change the bandage and, maybe the blood freaked her out, I don’t know.’

Whatever this new Momma was, we didn’t want to jinx it. We didn’t say anything else about it, just went to class, and carried the tender feeling with us.