Lesser Crimes Page 11

  Lee opened her bag and let Abby drop her comb inside. She had gone to the bathroom first, to take a moment and recover from seeing James, but Sophie and Abby had followed and were talking of nothing but him.

  "You can tell Caleb ain't happy," Sophie pursued.

  Abby shook her head. "You talk so much shit, Sophie."

  "I tell it like it is."

  God save me from people who tell it like it is, Lee thought. In any case what Sophie — and Abby, when she felt like it — did was to constantly impose their unwanted opinion on others. She had, however, exhausted her excuses not to go out with them, and even Maddy and Ross had insisted that she have some fun.

  What fun could it be to sit at a table with Caleb, who stared, and with his sisters, who liked to provoke arguments? What fun was it to see James across a room and not be able to touch him?

  Still, she couldn't help the blood that coursed more quickly through her, or the thought running through her head in a loop: "He came back, he came back, he came back,” like some crazy jingle in a commercial.

  Why has he come back?

  "As if Lynn ain't thinking about that fine animal over there," Sophie went on as she inspected her own reflection. " 'Stead of poor Billy. She just can't do nothing about it, that's all. That's why I always say, think a lot before you marry."

  "Shoulda married Caleb," Abby said loyally.

  "You'd take Caleb over the English guy?"

  "Caleb's my brother, so I wouldn't take him at all. I'm saying over Billy." Abby turned to Lee. "Although we shouldn't be talking about things like this."

  "Gotta help the girl let off some steam," Sophie said with a wicked light in her eyes. "She can't be all tied up in knots inside. Right, Lee?"

  Sophie didn't wait for an answer; she opened the door and they walked back to their table. The bar was filling up, and a live band of six had started playing. Lee knew everyone in it and was glad the music made conversation almost impossible.

  "Can't believe you've finally come to see me!"

  Lee turned in time to see the owner of the Osprey leaning over her. She offered her cheek to his kiss.

  "Hi, Austin!"

  "Beautiful like you always was," Austin said in his deep twang.

  He had aged since she left; his hair, under the cap he hardly ever removed, was white now, and his thick nose redder than before. Austin had always been kind to Lee, letting her sing in the bar for tips sometimes, although he couldn't have paid her a salary.

  "I know, I ain't doing that bad anymore," he told her. "Have two pool tables in the back, have the band Friday and Saturday. Not watering the liquor no more."

  Everyone at the table laughed as he winked at Lee.

  "These Brooks kids here taking care of you?"

  "Yeah, they are."

  "And Billy?"

  "He's all right."

  Austin's face showed compassion. "Everything will be fine, sweetheart."

  Chief Fisher's face wasn't as compassionate when he entered the Osprey with his wife. His expression was non-committal as he spotted Lee sitting with one of his officers, and he only gave the table the barest nod. Caleb wouldn't get in trouble, but the chief obviously preferred to keep his distance from a murder suspect.

  Not so Noah Wright, Caleb's partner, who walked straight to the table when he arrived. Noah had a vague smile that almost never left his face; he had been considered slow at school, but as a cop he was beloved of all, since he had infinite patience. He'd bring cats down from trees, change lightbulbs and allay the fears of old people; he'd do the things Caleb thought too small for cops to bother with.

  They tried to scream over the music, but James’ presence felt like a thousand degrees of heat blowing over Lee’s skin. What was he making of the town where she had grown up? He would certainly be interested in the anthropology of any place — whether it was Windsor Palace or Hawkshaw. She found herself wishing she could sit with him and hear him say anything. James was always interesting; she loved to talk to him almost as much as—

  "Dreeeeeaaaaming!" Sophie screamed in her ear.

  Lee started, pulling away with a frown.

  "Oh my God, Lynn!" Sophie said with a bigger scowl. "You made of china or something?"

  Sophie was on her third beer, and she was a mean drunk. She pulled at her own auburn hair and pushed her chest out aggressively. "Can't even touch the girl, Jesus."

  "Leave her alone, Sophe," Caleb said. "She just got frightened, that's all."

  Sophie chortled with laughter. "I know what she's dreaming about."

  Poor Noah had the grace to look embarrassed, while Caleb said, "Slow that drinking."

  "You gonna order me about?" Sophie asked. "You go be a cop at the station. Don't give me orders, I'm your older sister."

  She lifted her beer and pointed to it, asking Sara for another. "I'm gonna invite a stranger to dance tonight."

  Caleb shook his head in disgust.

  "You think he'll dance with me, Lee? What, you think he won't?" Sophie took the new beer Sara brought her. "When's the dancing?"

  Sara shrugged, took the empty bottles and left.

  The band finished the song and announced they were taking a break, and Sophie booed. Austin stepped to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, how are you on this rainy Saturday night. Having fun?" He looked around and raised his bottle as people applauded. "Now, I've got something special for you tonight."

  Oh, no.

  "Someone who's come back to town after a long time away. Someone a lot of you used to come in just to listen to. Now this friend came back under some bad circumstances, but in this country, we don't judge no person guilty till it's proved. Until then, I'd like to ask you to give a warm welcome to a very, very special voice and person, Lynn Miller."

  Not everyone applauded, but most people did — and loudly enough to make it difficult for Lee to demur. She got down from her stool, avoiding James' eyes, but as she passed Caleb, he said, "Mind what you sing, Lee."

  Well, she hated being told what to do even more than Sophie. When she got to the mic, she knew exactly what she was going to sing, and told Austin in a whisper. He smiled, nodded and took the bass. Standing at the microphone, she began,

  You made me love you,

  I didn't want to do it

  I didn't want to do it,

  You made me want you,

  And all the time you knew it

  I guess you always knew it

  Lee felt the music, the way she always did or more, because James was there.

  You made me sigh for

  I didn't want to tell you

  I didn't want to tell you

  I want some love that's true,

  Yes, I do,

  Indeed, I do,

  You know I do.

  Give me, give me, give me what I cry for,

  You know you got the brand of kisses that I'd die for

  You know you made me love you.

  As soon as the sound of her voice died, she nodded at the applause and walked away, but not back to her table. She opened the door to the street, letting it swing shut behind her. It was still raining, and that was all she had time to think, before she was pushed against the wall.

  "You don't have any shame!" Caleb cried, his face inches from hers. "Why d’you sing that in front of people?"

  "That what, Caleb?" she asked calmly

  "Some love song, looking at that guy like you’re gonna fall out of your clothes. My sisters bring you out so you have fun and you forget that Billy's at home."

  "Is it Billy you're worried about, really? Or is it that while I'm with Billy I'm not with anyone else?"

  He stepped back. "You think so much of yourself, Lynn."

  She looked down. "I guess that's a gun in your pocket, then."

  "Shut your mouth!" He raised his hand. "Shut your mouth! You don't know any shame, you—"

  The door opened, and this time it was James. Oh, God, Lee thought for a moment, Now everyone in the bar will be talking. Eve
ryone will be expecting a fight or a scandal.

  But the sight of James, ready to defend her and incapable of staying away, filled her with joy.

  "We were talking here," Caleb said.

  James stepped toward him. "Were you?" He turned to Lee. "Did you want to talk to him?"

  She leaned against the wall and shook her head.

  He looked at Caleb. "Well?"

  For a moment Lee thought that Caleb might throw a fist at James. But James stood — waiting and staring — until Caleb gave something like a shrug and walked past him. "You've forgotten how things are here, Lynn," he said as he pushed the door and disappeared.

  "I haven't forgotten,” she said.

  The rain fell over James' hair, his face, his lips.

  "You'll be all right?"

  Lee nodded. "Yeah, don't worry."

  Before he moved away, he caressed the inside of her arm. "Hang in there."

  "I will."

  And he was gone.

  SIXTEEN

  Things had been set in motion inside James. It was time to make a choice, and he was aware that he was making one when he looked up an address as he waited for the Uber he had called. He wasn’t going to drive because he had drunk a bit much and planned to drink more; and he wasn’t going home.

  The driver was a black man who greeted him with a cool “Hey!” His seat leaned back farther than it should, and James smiled as he got in. A rule breaker. Good.

  After giving him the address in Greensboro, James added, “And if you can wait for me there, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

  “A hundred bucks?” The man’s entire body almost turned sideways so he could look at James. “What the hell you gonna do, rob a place?”

  “Nah. Nothing that will get you in trouble. I promise.”

  “You promise?” The driver laughed. “All right, but do you swear?”

  “If you wish.”

  “Hu-hu-hu. I do wish!”

  They were silent as the car crossed the night. From Hawkshaw to Greensboro it was a half hour drive, even on a Saturday night. It was one of the lovely things about North Carolina: there was almost never any traffic.

  In that half hour, James might have decided to do something else, but he didn't. He liked the choice he had made.

  When he reached his destination, a parking lot somewhat similar to the one he had just left, he removed his coat, dropping it in the passenger seat. “Won’t be very long.”

  The driver eyed the coat. “OK. Looks like this would pay for the ride anyway.”

  James walked into the bar beyond the parking lot in his shirtsleeves. He brushed back his wet hair as he approached the counter and asked for another whiskey. There was live music, but it was soft jazz, and the band was on the other side of the place. He drank two glasses of whiskey in a row, his eye on the TV above him, where an American football game was playing.

  As he paid, he asked the barman, "Is your boss in?"

  People in America tended to trust him because of the way he sounded. Funny, when most of the villains in their movies were British. The young man asked, "Can I say who wants to see him?"

  "He won’t know my name, but he might recognize me.”

  When Hunter appeared at the door, and the barman pointed at James, he narrowed his eyes and walked over.

  "Do I know you?"

  James nodded. "From Lynn Miller's hearing? We weren't formally introduced."

  A sort of panic entered the man's eyes. He was shorter than James, but thickset. It wasn't cowardly for James to say, "Will you step outside for a moment?"

  "We can talk here," Hunter said.

  The smile on James' face turned into a sneer. "You're not scared, are you?" He lifted the shirt over the waist of his pants and turned around. "I don't have a gun or a knife. I just want to talk to you."

  "Look, I've said all I had to say about what happened.” Hunter wagged a finger. “If you're involved with that girl, you watch out."

  "Sure. Let's go outside, please."

  Speaking softly and walking toward the man without touching him produced the effect James hoped for. Hunter walked backward for a moment, his eyes darting over the bar as if he hoped to keep the integrity of his property. He wasn't craven enough to ask for help, although he could have. James had to approve of that.

  "It's raining," Hunter said when they walked out.

  That was before he got a fist to his jaw. He stumbled back, holding his cheek and cried, "What the hell, you fucking lunatic!"

  "Come on," James said. "I'm waiting for you to hit back."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  James stepped forward again, and Hunter understood that he needed to fight. He swung at James, but his blow was easily avoided. James’ fist connected with Hunter's other jaw as the man staggered.

  "Come on, you can do better than this!" James said.

  Hunter charged at him, grabbing him by the waist and driving him back against the wall. James laughed as he hit it. "There you go, yeay!"

  His knee struck Hunter in the solar plexus with a thud. That must have hurt, but it didn't stop James from punching Hunter's jaw again. This time he got a blow to his face as an answer, but he was sufficiently anesthetized by whiskey to not feel it, and to deliver two fast blows to his opponent's chest.

  Hunter flew back, landing on a bunch of crates. That only reminded James that he had stuck his hand between Lee's legs where he kept the damn crates in his bar; his foot followed that memory and met Hunter's stomach as the bar owner writhed on the ground.

  Still, James had been taught fair play; he turned, walking away from Hunter. "Get up."

  "You fucking lunatic!" Hunter repeated. "Who the fuck are you?"

  "I'll give you my name and address in a second.”

  As Hunter managed to stand up, James saw that the man had more stamina than strength, and that he wasn't agile. He was able to deliver a few more blows to Hunter’s face and chest before he received one that sent him reeling. Still, he had weakened the brute as the rain pelted them with bigger drops. It was time for the exercise to end, so he drove his fist squarely into Hunter's nose and watched him fall again.

  His knuckles were bleeding, and the man on the ground cursed but couldn't get up.

  "All right, so it’s James Bryce — short name, and with a ‘y’ — 1167 Scarborough Street in Old Irving Park. Can you remember that?" James bent sideways to look at Hunter. "Can you? Send the police there to arrest me, like the piece of shit coward you are. Or come with your friends, I don’t care."

  There was no answer from Hunter. James straightened his back and walked to the Uber to find the driver standing half out of his side to see the fight better. The man whooped with laughter once more.

  “You kicked his ass,” the driver laughed. “That was like — efficient.”

  “Thank you,” James said, both at the compliment and at the towel the driver handed him. He rubbed it over his face and neck and gave his home address.

  Damn, he was wet and some parts of him were hurting, but he felt exhilarated. That was the unfortunate thing: men had been made, way back when, to fight and fuck — hence the state of the world. He had been taught by masters of tranquility to behave better than this; he ought to behave better, he really did, but he was a lousy student.

  The driver snapped his hundred-dollar bill when he got it, and James could hear him laughing even as he closed the door to the house. Upstairs, he let the hot water in the shower run over his cuts and bruises for a while. He ought to behave better, but sometimes he didn't want to.

  How could he explain it? Sometimes it was as if he saw the Bat Signal in the sky: the signal that told him to go out and get justice.

  SEVENTEEN

  The police didn't come, but a noise downstairs made James jump out of bed a few hours later.

  Someone was trying to get into the house.

  He found his pajama trousers on the chair and put them on, running on bare feet through the corridor. A closet on the way had a v
ariety of golf clubs, and one of them would have to do as a weapon. Grabbing it, he quietly descended the stairs. Through the curtains of the living room, he could make out a shape playing with the lock on the glass doors that led to the garden.

  That probably wasn't the coward, Hunter, but might be someone he had sent. Or it could be a burglar, although the real estate agent had boasted about the safety of the neighborhood.

  In any case, he now had the advantage of surprise. When the door finally clicked open and the form emerged through the curtains, he tripped it with the golf club, ready to start beating it.

  A woman's cry stopped him. He pulled the curtain aside and let the moonlight reveal the form on the ground.

  "Lee!"

  She turned around, leaning on her elbows. "That hurt!"

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  The blouse slipped down her shoulder as she shrugged. "I dunno."

  God, was she drunk.

  "This isn't a good idea," he said, realizing he was still drunk as well.

  "Why not?"

  She was wet and had a playful light in her eyes. He extended his hand to pull her, and she jumped on him, wrapping legs around his torso and arms around his neck. "Why isn't it a good idea?"

  James pried her hands open and set her on the ground. She took a step forward and he extended the club at arm's length to keep her away. “Now, now, kitty cat."

  Lee pouted. "Why are you afraid of me?"

  "Because you're acting crazy."

  "I'm cold," she complained.

  He circled her, keeping the club between them, and closed the door.

  "I'm wet," Lee insisted.

  "Kind of your fault, if you run around in the rain. Where's your coat? And where are your friends?"

  "I ditched them and took a cab here.” She sneezed. “And they're not my friends."

  "All right." He indicated a chair with the club. "Sit here, and I'll go get you something dry."

  "OK."

  He ought to have realized that her tone was too docile, because when he emerged from the bathroom with towels, she was lying sideways on his bed.

  "Lee, no, no, no."