college. He got to be pretty good, and the tricks rendered Julia open-mouthed the first time she saw them. To do them again was going to bring that last memory back in full color.
“I’d really like to see it,” Wendy said. She wasn’t to blame for anything in his life. And he was her guest. He could do it, sure, and maybe get past the memories. Maybe Julia would have wanted him to.
“All right,” Chuck said. “Please notice that my hands will not leave my arms at any time.”
“He always says that,” Stan said.
Chuck placed both his hands over his knife, slid it toward him and off the table, into his lap. He kept the motion smooth and put his hands up to his mouth and pretended he was swallowing the knife.
But as he did the knife slid off his lap and hit the floor with a clank.
“Oops,” Stan said.
Chuck had not blown that trick in twenty years. He looked at his hands like they were foreign objects who had betrayed him.
Wendy laughed good-naturedly. But when Chuck looked at her, she stopped laughing.
A cold blade was slicing through Chuck then. He had dishonored Julia’s memory after all. Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted this. Maybe her ghost knocked the knife off his lap. This was all just too soon. Only seven months since her death. He shouldn’t have come. When was the last time he actually felt normal? He tried to recall it, and it was like searching for a box in a dark warehouse with all the fuses blown and the lights out. It was somewhere, in a corner maybe, but which one?
Everybody seemed to sense it, not talking, one of those lulls in a conversation that makes everyone think they’re in an elevator with strangers.
Thankfully, there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me,” Wendy said, getting up from the table.
“She likes you,” Stan whispered.
“Enough,” Chuck said.
“She’s a good cook,” Stan said.
“Huh?”
“I could tell her about the specials, and she could cook them for you.”
“Stan––”
“Fresh boneless, skinless chicken breasts, a dollar ninety-nine a pound.”
“How about I skin you, Stan? And make you boneless?”
“Ha ha, jacky-daw.” That was Stan’s own phrase, had been ever since he’d read a bird book when he was ten and saw jackdaws and figured out the singular rhymed with ha ha . It drove Chuck crazy for awhile, everything was ha ha jacky-daw for months.
And then Wendy was in the room again. Behind here were the two detectives who’d questioned Chuck earlier at the school. Epperson and Mooney.
Epperson said, “Charles Samson?”
Just like his mother used to sound when he was in trouble. Chuck stood. Maybe they had some news about the house.
“I am placing you under arrest,” she said.
Stan jumped so fast out of his chair he almost knocked the table over. Two water glasses fell.
Mooney came at Chuck with the bracelets. “Turn around,” he said.
“What is this?” Chuck said.
“You are under arrest for the manufacture of methamphetamine,” Epperson said.
“What?”
The next few moments were a haze of insane noise. Stan shouted, Chuck told Wendy to get Stan back to the motel, Wendy said she would, Mooney told everybody to be quiet. Chuck told Wendy to tell Ray Hunt he might miss school tomorrow. She said she’d do that, too. Mooney said be quiet again.
Then they were out the door, with Mooney squeezing Chuck’s arm hard, pushing him toward the stairwell. Apartment doors opened and people peeked out, like a Whack-a-Mole game.
Stan’s voice echoed down the hall. “You’ll never get away with this, you dirty coppers! Never!”
Chapter 16
In a Topanga station interview room, Chuck listened to Detective Epperson drone, “You’ve been advised of your rights. We cannot ask you any questions, and anything you say can be used against you in court. You can sign this waiver and talk to us, or you can wait to speak to an attorney.”
Chuck said, “Tell me, honestly, if you think I am a guy who would be dealing
“I’d really like to see it,” Wendy said. She wasn’t to blame for anything in his life. And he was her guest. He could do it, sure, and maybe get past the memories. Maybe Julia would have wanted him to.
“All right,” Chuck said. “Please notice that my hands will not leave my arms at any time.”
“He always says that,” Stan said.
Chuck placed both his hands over his knife, slid it toward him and off the table, into his lap. He kept the motion smooth and put his hands up to his mouth and pretended he was swallowing the knife.
But as he did the knife slid off his lap and hit the floor with a clank.
“Oops,” Stan said.
Chuck had not blown that trick in twenty years. He looked at his hands like they were foreign objects who had betrayed him.
Wendy laughed good-naturedly. But when Chuck looked at her, she stopped laughing.
A cold blade was slicing through Chuck then. He had dishonored Julia’s memory after all. Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted this. Maybe her ghost knocked the knife off his lap. This was all just too soon. Only seven months since her death. He shouldn’t have come. When was the last time he actually felt normal? He tried to recall it, and it was like searching for a box in a dark warehouse with all the fuses blown and the lights out. It was somewhere, in a corner maybe, but which one?
Everybody seemed to sense it, not talking, one of those lulls in a conversation that makes everyone think they’re in an elevator with strangers.
Thankfully, there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me,” Wendy said, getting up from the table.
“She likes you,” Stan whispered.
“Enough,” Chuck said.
“She’s a good cook,” Stan said.
“Huh?”
“I could tell her about the specials, and she could cook them for you.”
“Stan––”
“Fresh boneless, skinless chicken breasts, a dollar ninety-nine a pound.”
“How about I skin you, Stan? And make you boneless?”
“Ha ha, jacky-daw.” That was Stan’s own phrase, had been ever since he’d read a bird book when he was ten and saw jackdaws and figured out the singular rhymed with ha ha . It drove Chuck crazy for awhile, everything was ha ha jacky-daw for months.
And then Wendy was in the room again. Behind here were the two detectives who’d questioned Chuck earlier at the school. Epperson and Mooney.
Epperson said, “Charles Samson?”
Just like his mother used to sound when he was in trouble. Chuck stood. Maybe they had some news about the house.
“I am placing you under arrest,” she said.
Stan jumped so fast out of his chair he almost knocked the table over. Two water glasses fell.
Mooney came at Chuck with the bracelets. “Turn around,” he said.
“What is this?” Chuck said.
“You are under arrest for the manufacture of methamphetamine,” Epperson said.
“What?”
The next few moments were a haze of insane noise. Stan shouted, Chuck told Wendy to get Stan back to the motel, Wendy said she would, Mooney told everybody to be quiet. Chuck told Wendy to tell Ray Hunt he might miss school tomorrow. She said she’d do that, too. Mooney said be quiet again.
Then they were out the door, with Mooney squeezing Chuck’s arm hard, pushing him toward the stairwell. Apartment doors opened and people peeked out, like a Whack-a-Mole game.
Stan’s voice echoed down the hall. “You’ll never get away with this, you dirty coppers! Never!”
Chapter 16
In a Topanga station interview room, Chuck listened to Detective Epperson drone, “You’ve been advised of your rights. We cannot ask you any questions, and anything you say can be used against you in court. You can sign this waiver and talk to us, or you can wait to speak to an attorney.”
Chuck said, “Tell me, honestly, if you think I am a guy who would be dealing
Similar Books
