Tony and Susan, page 23
“What cancer?”
Bobby Andes glared. “I told you, I got six fucking months to live.”
Tony Hastings stared back. “Did you tell me?” Did he sleep through such an important message as that?
Bobby Andes was saying how it was the lawyer he got, lawyer the court appointed, named Jenks, how him and Gorman made a deal and got Ray off. A deal, politics, you take this one, I’ll let you have that one.
Tony asked, “When did you tell me about your illness?”
“It’s Jenks and Gorman.”
“I don’t understand what you are talking about.”
“They want to ease me out.”
“Why would they do that?”
Bobby Andes did not answer.
“Would they drop a murder case to do that?”
Yes, the case. Bobby Andes explained. They were saying the case wasn’t well prepared, it was a sloppy job, slapdash, no evidence, evidence gathered improperly, won’t stand up in court. According to Andes, Gorman was punishing him because the sonofabitch is scared to death to take on a case he might lose. He asked if that made Tony mad.
“I saw them, Bobby.”
“Yeah yeah yeah.”
“Are they dropping Lou too?”
Not Lou. They got the fingerprints on Lou. Make him stand trial for the whole fucking Hastings case. That’s fine if you’re satisfied to hold Lou accountable for crimes inspired by Ray.
“It’s no good if they don’t get Ray,” Tony said.
“That’s what I thought you thought,” Andes said. He told how Ray got off because the only thing they had on him was Tony’s word, and Jenks had scared Gorman into thinking that wouldn’t stand up. And because it was Andes’s case and Gorman thought it was time he retired and got the benefit of his cancer in Florida.
“You never told me about the cancer.”
“The word going out these days is I’m incompetent. Which Gorman would like to prove.”
“What if I spoke to him?”
Bobby laughed, haw haw. The trouble with you is this airtight alibi Ray’s got. His airtight alibi. He was with Leila Whozis, she backs him up, her aunt backs him up, what can they do?
“There’s another problem, too.”
“What?”
“Get this.” According to Gorman, your identification of Ray is unreliable. Calm down, it ain’t personal, it’s lawyers. It’s Ray’s alibi, plus she backed him up. Plus, it was in the dark which increased your chances for error. Plus, you couldn’t identify Turk. That’s big with Gorman, you couldn’t identify Turk.
“Ray was more vivid than Turk.”
“Don’t tell me, I believe you. We sure could have used your friend in the truck.”
“Who?”
“The deaf man. He could have identified Ray.”
“He probably never knew about it.”
“Everybody in the county knew about it. Sonofabitch was too scared to come forward. Mind his own business, the bastard.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Well, according to Bobby Andes, the obvious way would be to break somebody down. He told how he tried that on Lou Bates, which they wouldn’t let him because all Gorman would allow was polite questions. You don’t break an ox like Bates with polite questions. According to Bobby Andes, Lou Bates was an idiot. He had one principle of survival, name rank and serial number. He don’t know Ray, period. When Bobby told him what the guys at Herman’s had said, Lou said, “If I had a beer with him, I never knew who he was.” When Bobby suggested it wasn’t fair for him to take the rap for everybody, Lou didn’t know what Bobby was talking about. When Bobby asked who was that third guy running away at the Bear Valley Mall, he don’t know, was there another guy? Big stone face with a beard.
Bobby Andes set down his fork and lit a cigarette. He was enjoying his frustrations. He thought they could at least hold Ray on the holdup but now the clerk can’t identify him. He quoted Gorman saying, the only thing you got is the guys in Herman’s who saw them drinking beer and Hastings (that’s you) recognizing him from the number on the back of his uniform after you told him who he was. And they can’t use Ray’s police record because that ain’t done.
He looked at Tony a long time, which made Tony nervous. “It’s a question how serious you are about seeing justice done.”
He said he had George keeping an eye on Ray, so he won’t get away without him knowing.
Tony said, “What do you mean, how serious I am?”
“That’s a good question.”
Tony waited. Bobby Andes put his uneaten spaghetti a little further to the side. “Can’t eat,” he said. “Might throw up.”
“Are you in pain?”
“What time do you have? Do you have eight o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“So do I. George will be calling. He’s to check me here at eight.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Bobby shrugged his shoulders.
“Can’t you eat? How do you get along if you can’t eat?”
He shrugged his shoulders again. “It depends.”
“I appreciate your going to all this effort.”
“Sometimes I can eat, sometimes I can’t. This place stinks.”
“Do you have any close relatives or friends?”
Bobby Andes lit another cigarette and stamped it out without smoking it. “Let me ask you a personal question,” he said. “Between us, okay? What do you want me to do to Ray Marcus?”
The question startled Tony, the odd wording. “What can you do?”
Bobby Andes seemed to think about this. “Anything you goddamn like,” he said.
“I thought you said—”
“I got nothing to lose.”
Tony tried to understand. Bobby Andes said, “Shall I restate the question? Put it this way: how far are you willing to go to bring Marcus to justice?” He lit another cigarette.
Tony wondered, what do you mean? He heard Bobby Andes saying this: “Are you willing to go outside the strict procedures a little?” Like wondering if that slight tremor you just felt was an earthquake.
“Me?”
“Or me.”
He looked for a clearer euphemism. “You mean, bending the law?”
Bobby Andes explained: what you might have to do to help the law if fucking technicalities prevent it.
Tony was scared. He did not want to answer the general question. He said, “What specifically are you talking about?”
Andes was impatient. “I’m trying to find out if you really want this guy.”
Of course Tony wanted him. Andes was disgusted. He just wanted to know, if Tony didn’t like his methods. Tony wondered, what’s wrong with your methods?
Bobby Andes calmed down, took a breath, waited. “Some of these new law school jerks don’t like my procedures. They’re afraid my procedures will create a scandal if Ray Marcus comes to trial, burn their ass.”
Tony felt the whiff of a different horror. “Could that happen?”
“Not if the police stick together like they should, sons a bitches.” Deep sigh, end of the world. “That’s why I gotta know.”
Know what?
“If you’re gonna wimp out on me too. If you have a congenital aversion to strong aggressive police work.”
Tony did not want to answer. He wondered, why are you asking me?
“This guy raped and killed your wife and daughter.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Bobby Andes wasn’t sure of that. He pushed the point. Law says he should be punished, but if the law can’t, do you want him to go free? Does the law really want him free?
“What else can you do?”
“You can help the law. Like I said.”
Tony wished he wouldn’t keep thinking of different ways to put it. He didn’t want to go against Bobby Andes. He said, “Take the law into your hands?”
“Act on behalf of the law.”
“To do what?”
Andes didn’t answer. He was working his mouth, chewing, not looking.
“To do what, Bobby?”
No answer.
“Act on behalf of the law to do what?”
Now Andes looked at him, looked away, looked back again. “What do you think?”
Two possibilities occurred to Tony. One terrified him. He mentioned the other. “To get new evidence?”
Andes half laughed, not a real laugh. “You think that’s possible?”
“How would I know?”
The woman called from the counter. “Is your name Andes?”
Bobby Andes went to talk on the phone. In a few minutes he came back.
“Okay,” he said. “Ray Marcus is at Herman’s. I mean to go pick him up. It’s your god damn case. I have to know now. Are you willing to participate, or are you going to fink out on me?”
“Participate in what? You haven’t told me, Bobby.”
Bobby Andes spoke slowly, carefully, patiently. “I want to bring the sonofabitch to justice.” His voice had an emotional catch in it, Tony noticed. “I’m taking him out to my camp. I want you to come too.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Be there. Trust me and be there.”
“Then what? I mean, what’s your plan?”
Bobby Andes thought a little, as if deciding whether to say some particular thing. “I asked you before. What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I want to bring the fucker to justice.”
“Okay.”
“So you tell me. You be the judge.”
“What do you mean?”
“What should he get? Five years and parole, hey?”
Wondering what he was being goaded to say, Tony said nothing.
“More than that, huh?” Tony stared from inside his dizziness, feeling sick trying to guess. “I hope you’re not one of these capital punishment wimps.”
“Oh no, not that.” Tony shocked cold: permission to kill Ray, is that what Bobby Andes is asking? His voice broke as he asked once again, “What are you going to do?”
Bobby Andes gave him a funny searching look. Then laughed. “Relax,” he said. He started to speak, caught himself, and after a moment spoke more quietly. “I want to take him out to the camp with us and keep him for a while. I want to work him over. Get a little rough, make him suffer a little. See what he does. Would you like that?”
Tony could imagine enjoying it. He could see the possibility like a bit of bright dust in the murk.
“It’s your case, I want you to see it. You can help.”
Relieved by the soothing tone more than the words, Tony Hastings had his questions, two or three distinct and others less definite, but he saw the impatience in Bobby Andes’s eyes, like fear of dying or the end of the world.
“If you can make him confess, that would be good,” he said.
Bobby Andes laughed.
FOUR
Susan Morrow sees a new issue shaping up through the battle of euphemisms, unless it’s a red herring. She doubts that, it looks like a true fish: Bobby Andes takes the law into his hands. Tony Hastings meets John Wayne. With little space left, at most five chapters, more likely four, the risk of being disappointed was never greater than now.
Meanwhile, dialogue. Susan likes dialogue, how print fastens ephemeral words to the page like flattened animals on the road, so you can go back and inspect them in their non sequitur, as when Bobby Andes says irrelevantly: This place stinks. Yet behind all this imagined Pennsylvania and Ohio stands the ego of Edward the Writer. Tony Hastings, Ray Marcus, Bobby Andes, Louise Germane, the shades of Laura and Helen, these people who have, as she imagines, some relationship to herself, all are icons of that great Edward ego, projected on a screen. Twenty-five years ago she ejected the Edward ego, clumsy and crude, from her life. How subtly it works now, soaking up her own, converting hers into his.
Nocturnal Animals 22
Two cars, Tony Hastings in his following Bobby Andes through the quiet streets of Topping to Herman’s. A big parking lot around Herman’s, which was a one-story sprawling building with a red sign in the window. The sign cast a brighter glow than the twilight and accelerated the night. Bobby came over to Tony’s car. “Wait here,” he said.
From his car Tony watched the door to Herman’s while the night came on. After a while two men came out. He recognized Bobby and realized the other was Ray. They talked in the glow of the sign. Ray stood with his hands on his hips, Andes looking up to him with his back twisted. Ray made a gesture of disgust, turned to the door, changed his mind. Two policemen appeared in the door. Ray gestured. One of the policemen touched Ray’s shoulder. He recoiled, then submitted while the policeman put handcuffs on him and led him over to the lieutenant’s car. Bobby Andes came back to Tony.
“We’re going to my camp. It’s in Bear Valley. You follow.”
Full night while they drove, a three-car caravan, the police car in front, down the fast valley road. A passing car got between Tony and Bobby, then passed Bobby but dared not pass the police car, making it a four-car caravan for the next five miles.
He saw the flashing turn signal of the cars ahead and put on his own, though nobody was behind. A side road to the left, the sign read WHITE CREEK. The road went narrow and straight between two fields, bumpy, they had to go slow. Tony could make out the ridge rising ahead out of the flat valley floor. At the end of the fields the road turned left. There was a narrow stream on their right under the bluff, with woods beyond. Light ahead, a cottage in a grove next to the stream. The two cars pulled in under the trees and Tony pulled in beside them. They all got out and Tony followed them in.
“My camp,” Bobby Andes said.
They went in through the screened porch. It seemed like a crowd in the little room, and it took Tony a moment to straighten them out. There was a woman, but the others were only the people who had come from Herman’s: the two policemen, Bobby Andes, Ray Marcus. Bobby Andes had a gun in his hand, and the sight of it shocked Tony like an exposed penis. Bobby was glaring at the woman. He said, “How did you get here?”
She was bigger than he. She wore a sweater and slacks, and had a tired face. She was probably in her forties and might be a schoolteacher.
“Lucy brought me.”
“Shit.”
Ray noticed Tony. “Hey, what’s this guy doing here?”
The room had a table in the middle, a cot, a few old chairs. There was an alcove with a stove and sink, and there was a screen door to the back and an open door to a bedroom. Ray’s handcuffs glittered in the light that hung from the beam. He sat on the cot.
The two policemen left. Tony heard their car going off. Bobby introduced the woman to Tony. “This is Ingrid Hale,” he said.
“How do do, Ingrid,” Ray said.
Ingrid’s look at Tony was curious. “So you’re Mr. Hastings,” she said. “You have my sympathy.”
“Do I have your sympathy too?” Ray said.
“Shut up,” Bobby Andes said. “You might have told me,” he said to Ingrid.
“How was I to know? What are you doing out here anyway?” Like it embarrassed her to have a fight in front of strangers.
“Police work,” Bobby said. “I want to do some fucking police work, for Christ sakes.”
“Here? Since when do you do your police work here, Bobby?”
He was standing there white faced, as if astonished by some inner message. “Jesus, I’m sick,” he said. He thrust the gun at Ingrid. “Here, hold this.”
“What?” She juggled it like fire. “Don’t give me this.” She gave it back.
He thrust it at Tony. “Use it,” he said. “Shoot him. I’ll be right back.” Tony looked at it, heavy in his hands, wondering how it worked. Bobby went out back. They could hear him throwing up outside the screen door. Ray sniggered.
“Do you know how to use that thing?” he said.
Bobby Andes stayed out quite a while, and there were more noises. “Jesus Christ,” Ray said.
When Bobby Andes came back, Ray said, “This ain’t legal. If this was legal you’d of taken me to Grant Center, not this fucking place.”
Bobby took the gun from Tony and cocked it. “It’s all the legal we need,” he said.
“You’ll pay.”
Tony heard Ingrid Hale clicking her tongue.
“You lied to me,” Ray said. “There ain’t no new evidence. Why don’t you take me to Grant Center if you got new evidence?”
Bobby Andes was studying the gun.
“I like it better here. More relaxed.”
“Seems to me you tried this trick already. If you think this guy’s going to break me down, you already seen that don’t work.”
“Bobby,” Ingrid said.
“Okay, you’re here, you’re here,” he said to her. “You ain’t gonna like what you see, but I can’t change my plans on account of you.” Tony heard something boastful in the speech, like, Now you’ll see what police work is really like.
“Maybe I should go to bed.”
“Maybe that’s what you should do. Hey Ray,” he said. “What was you doing up Cargill Mountain this afternoon?”
“I knew you was tailing me.”
“You got a shack up there, some gal Leila don’t know about?”
No words out of Ray.
“Won’t tell? Doesn’t matter. I really don’t care, Ray.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“Pass the time, Ray.”
“What for? You waiting for something?”
“Time for you to think a little. You need time to make big decisions. When your whole goddamn life hangs in the balance.”
“There’s nothing to think about, man. My mind’s clean.”
“Say, listen to that. What would you say, Ray, if your pal Lou Bates implicated you in the Hastings murders?”
