Cold Night (Jack Paine Mysteries) by Al Sarrantonio Page B

down.
    Behind him, the telephone rang.
    "Jack?" Bob Petty's voice said.
    "Yeah."
    "Are you okay? You sound strange."
    "I'm all right. You have something on Paterna?"
    "Sort of. Paterna is dead."
    A slight chill rose up Paine's back as Petty went on.
    "He hung himself in his bedroom. His girlfriend found him about three this morning. She says they had a fight and she sent him home alone last night."
    "Was there a suicide note?"
    "No. That's one of the reasons we're holding the girl friend. But there's something else funny. I started poking around and hit a brick wall on this guy. There wasn't any Les Paterna seven years ago."
    "He was a wash job?"
    "New name, new face. Probably a federal witness."
    "Thanks, Bobby."
    "No problem. You sure you're okay?"
    "Yeah."
    "Want to shoot some pool tonight?"
    "I'm all right, Bobby."
    "Remember what I said about Dannon."
    "I will. Thanks."
    He hung up.

ELEVEN
     
    H e was in the second bad place. Again, it was more a feeling that it would get bad because it didn't start that way. He was with Tom, and they were in the woods. For the first time in a long time it was like it had been. He was home. He had his uniform on. Tom had a beard and long hair. The air in the woods smelled good, and it was getting late in the day. He always liked this time. He had his coat off and if it had been just a little warmer he would have taken his shirt off, too. He had an axe in his hands. He swung it in long high arcs and it felt good coming down on the wood. The wood made a good clean sound when it split.
    "Been a long time since I did this," he said.
    "Bet they had you doing plenty of other shit in the Army," Tom said.
    "Like peeling potatoes? Not much."
    Tom fiddled with the radio resting on a tree stump. He glided through channels until he found a station playing loud rock and roll.
    "What the hell band is that?" Jack asked, indicating the music that was on.
    "Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young."
    "Didn't they used to be in different bands?"
    "Now they're playing together. Like it?"
    Jack nodded. "I haven't heard much of anything the last six months."
    Tom put the chain saw he was oiling down. "You think you'll end up over there?"
    "They say it'll be over by next summer."
    "If Nixon wins in the fall. I know they're holding up those peace talks till after the election."
    "I don't think about it anymore. The news is we won't end up in Nam even if it doesn't end. They're pulling so many guys out now they wouldn't have anybody for us to relieve. I'll probably end up at Fort Bragg. Maybe in Germany." He looked at the head of the axe, then put it down on the tree stump next to the radio. "You want to hear some real news? I've got a girlfriend."
    Tom grinned. "You're kidding."
    "I'm serious."
    "You must be. You never told me about any of the others."
    "This one is for real."
    "How long have you known her?"
    "I met her three weeks ago."
    "Three weeks! Christ, you hardly know her."
    "I've got a good feeling about her, Tommy. We've talked about getting married."
    "Jesus!"
    "Her name is Ginny. I'll bring her around." Jack picked up the axe and swung it into the wood.
    They piled the cut logs and covered the pile with a tarp. Then Tom pointed to the sky. "Better get going before it gets dark. I'm tired, anyway."
    "Give me one minute," Jack said, sitting on a stump. "I wanted to ask you about Dad."
    "What's to say?"
    "He looked like shit when I saw him yesterday down at the house. Doesn't he do anything?"
    Tom made himself busy packing the chain saw and its gas. "No."
    "Does he give you any trouble?"
    "He sits and watches TV, or stares at the walls."
    "What the hell did they do to him in that place?"
    His brother looked at him with annoyance. "Haven't you ever thought about it? What do you think they did to him? They kept him in there. All his problems are in his own head. That's what the trouble is." He turned back to the chain saw, snapped it into its case.
    "I think about him all the time," Jack said.
    "He talks about