Memorial Day: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Novels) by Harry Shannon Page B
Authors: Harry Shannon
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ironing," he said. "I was doing the dishes. I accidentally broke a glass. When I turned around to say I was sorry, she grabbed my hair. Then she held the hot iron against my face."
"Jesus Christ."
"Jesus was nowhere to be found, my man."
"How old are you now, Jerry, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-three." He looked up as if something had just occurred to him. "You know what, Mick? You ask a lot of questions, but you don't answer many."
I squirmed. "Force of habit."
"Is that why you became a shrink?"
"My stepfather used to make me fight other kids for money, Jerry."
"Whoa. Damn."
"My real father was a drunk. I guess I wanted to understand people like that, and why my mother married those men. I wanted to understand myself, because I kept drinking even though I knew better. I washed out of the Seals with a bad attitude, but then became a straight A student and licensed shrink. The shrink got radio and television work that made him rich and famous, then he lost it all. Same old story."
The pretty waitress was cleaning up. Her pink blouse and the knees of her torn jeans were damp. She started wiping down the table next booth. She caught my eye and winked. Something tickled my memory. I smiled back at her, puzzled. Her smile grew wider. She said: "You boys need anything else?"
"Not now, thanks." I still couldn't place her. The woman frowned and wandered away. "Now Jerry, look at me. Why would someone murder Sandy Palmer?"
Jerry was caught off-guard. "Jesus, dude. She called you saying she had a serious problem with her boyfriend. That he was into something and she was scared. Now she's dead. Doesn't all that strike you as a little too coincidental?"
"Of course. But we're not cops, and we don't have anything to go on, or real evidence suggesting who would have wanted her dead."
"No? Let me enlighten you," Jerry said. "Take that big bastard of an ex-boyfriend Bobby Sewell. He's got to be the meanest redneck in four counties. Sandy dumped him a couple of weeks ago, and Sewell ain't used to losing. I say it was him, or maybe one of his asshole buddies did it so he'd have an alibi."
"Maybe."
"Mick, work with me. I liked Sandy, but never had the balls to ask her out. I hardly ever do stuff like that. I just got lucky with that girl Skanky last night. Look, nothing like that ever happens to me. Nada . You know that sign some people stick on their cars that says 'Just Married'? Well, mine is gonna say 'Just Friends.'"
I laughed out loud, but Jerry looked dead serious. His eyes turned wet and shiny. "I really like this girl, Mick. Can you understand that?"
"Sure," I said. "I understand."
The moment vanished. "Anyway, back to Sandy Palmer. She was always cool. It made her stand out. I'd crack a joke and she would giggle. I might say good morning, she'd say it back. Pretty girls aren't usually that nice to geeks, especially with a face that's . . . anyway, Sandy was different."
"Okay. Who else besides Bobby do we consider a suspect?"
"Well then, there are the Palmers themselves," Jerry said, "or their enemies. The old man is really hated. Rumor has it he's terminally ill, but some say he fakes being in a wheelchair so folks will be nice to him."
"What about the brother?"
"Will? He's loco."
I leaned forward on the table. Silverware clinked. Flies buzzed on the window. "Okay, let me feed this back. Her ex-boyfriend doesn't like you, so he's a suspect. So are all of his strange friends. Will Palmer and his father are garden-variety rich pricks so we add them, and likewise anyone who works for or with them. Also enemies of the family, which means half the county, and don't forget any strangers passing through, and every horny male that was unaccounted for. Have I left anything out?"
"Well damn, if you put it that way."
"If I put it that way, damned near everyone in or around Dry Wells could have killed Sandy. Jerry, let's take off for Elko. I can still catch a late plane."
The waitress approached our booth. She was drying her
"Jesus Christ."
"Jesus was nowhere to be found, my man."
"How old are you now, Jerry, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-three." He looked up as if something had just occurred to him. "You know what, Mick? You ask a lot of questions, but you don't answer many."
I squirmed. "Force of habit."
"Is that why you became a shrink?"
"My stepfather used to make me fight other kids for money, Jerry."
"Whoa. Damn."
"My real father was a drunk. I guess I wanted to understand people like that, and why my mother married those men. I wanted to understand myself, because I kept drinking even though I knew better. I washed out of the Seals with a bad attitude, but then became a straight A student and licensed shrink. The shrink got radio and television work that made him rich and famous, then he lost it all. Same old story."
The pretty waitress was cleaning up. Her pink blouse and the knees of her torn jeans were damp. She started wiping down the table next booth. She caught my eye and winked. Something tickled my memory. I smiled back at her, puzzled. Her smile grew wider. She said: "You boys need anything else?"
"Not now, thanks." I still couldn't place her. The woman frowned and wandered away. "Now Jerry, look at me. Why would someone murder Sandy Palmer?"
Jerry was caught off-guard. "Jesus, dude. She called you saying she had a serious problem with her boyfriend. That he was into something and she was scared. Now she's dead. Doesn't all that strike you as a little too coincidental?"
"Of course. But we're not cops, and we don't have anything to go on, or real evidence suggesting who would have wanted her dead."
"No? Let me enlighten you," Jerry said. "Take that big bastard of an ex-boyfriend Bobby Sewell. He's got to be the meanest redneck in four counties. Sandy dumped him a couple of weeks ago, and Sewell ain't used to losing. I say it was him, or maybe one of his asshole buddies did it so he'd have an alibi."
"Maybe."
"Mick, work with me. I liked Sandy, but never had the balls to ask her out. I hardly ever do stuff like that. I just got lucky with that girl Skanky last night. Look, nothing like that ever happens to me. Nada . You know that sign some people stick on their cars that says 'Just Married'? Well, mine is gonna say 'Just Friends.'"
I laughed out loud, but Jerry looked dead serious. His eyes turned wet and shiny. "I really like this girl, Mick. Can you understand that?"
"Sure," I said. "I understand."
The moment vanished. "Anyway, back to Sandy Palmer. She was always cool. It made her stand out. I'd crack a joke and she would giggle. I might say good morning, she'd say it back. Pretty girls aren't usually that nice to geeks, especially with a face that's . . . anyway, Sandy was different."
"Okay. Who else besides Bobby do we consider a suspect?"
"Well then, there are the Palmers themselves," Jerry said, "or their enemies. The old man is really hated. Rumor has it he's terminally ill, but some say he fakes being in a wheelchair so folks will be nice to him."
"What about the brother?"
"Will? He's loco."
I leaned forward on the table. Silverware clinked. Flies buzzed on the window. "Okay, let me feed this back. Her ex-boyfriend doesn't like you, so he's a suspect. So are all of his strange friends. Will Palmer and his father are garden-variety rich pricks so we add them, and likewise anyone who works for or with them. Also enemies of the family, which means half the county, and don't forget any strangers passing through, and every horny male that was unaccounted for. Have I left anything out?"
"Well damn, if you put it that way."
"If I put it that way, damned near everyone in or around Dry Wells could have killed Sandy. Jerry, let's take off for Elko. I can still catch a late plane."
The waitress approached our booth. She was drying her
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