The City Still Breathing by Matthew Heiti Page B

him.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜I’m not sure.’
    â€˜Duncan.’ He says it quiet, but he feels the edge come into his voice, the words walking a razor.
    â€˜Uh, I heard this guy at the arcade – his friend – blabbing about this body in the trunk and – ’
    â€˜Duncan.’ So quiet the kid’s eyes bulge, looking at Milly the way a lot of people look at him. Fear. The way they all used to look at Väinö. Because you never knew if he was going to cut you or kiss you. Or which one was worse.
    â€˜Slim Slider. You know Slim – he worked for you a while back, right?’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜What’re you gonna do?’
    He knows the stories they tell and he’s not sure if people are afraid of him because of what he’s done or what he’s capable of doing. ‘I’m going to talk to him.’
    â€˜I dunno where he is – he was at the arcade and then – ’
    â€˜When?’
    â€˜Bout an hour ago.’
    â€˜Where did he go?’
    â€˜I dunno, man. He could be anywhere. He drives a red Dart – I know that.’
    He nods. It’s a start. He walks over to the chain-link fence closing off the pool. The pit all dried up, filled with leaves. The seal sculpture at the far end. In the summer, water spouts from the seal’s mouth.
    â€˜Uh, Milly?’ Duncan at his shoulder again. ‘I gotta get back.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    But he doesn’t go anywhere and Milly can feel him twitching away beside him. ‘Just wondering if … ’ He trails off, wipes at his nose. ‘You bring, uh, anything with you?’
    He turns his head, just enough for the kid to know that this is not the thing to ask. Disgusting to even think about business here. Now.
    â€˜Yeah, cool. Be seeing you.’
    He turns back to the pool and doesn’t even notice Duncan leave. Mom used to bring them here when they were kids. He grew out of it pretty quick, but even now he’d drive Lemmy in every weekend until the pool closed in September. If they got here when the right lifeguard was on, she wouldn’t say anything about Lemmy being too old or too big. He’d spend hours in the water, until his lips were blue, and even then he’d refuse to come out.
    But in the water he was sleek and graceful. He shivered like an otter. All the awkwardness of his low, squat body released. He’d pop out spitting water. The oh shine, Yershey. In the water he was free.
    He leaves the park and cuts across the street. Walking slow and letting the cars stop for him.
    He pulls open the door to the Nickel Bin and ducks inside. He lets his eyes adjust – like a cave in here, wet and dark, and it’s only when the thick wall of day-old cigarette smoke hits him that he remembers where he is.
    The bartender, Foisey, is leaning with his back against the bar, watching the television above him. Milly scans the rest of the place – pudgy guy with a moustache dressed in black setting up equipment on the small stage, off in the corner some other guy he maybe recognizes from the old days sleeping on a table. Nothing else but shadows. He walks up and takes a stool at the bar.
    â€˜Tea. Please.’
    Foisey gives him a glance and then comes back hard. He closes his mouth pretty quickly and tries to play it off with a nod. He goes to plug the kettle in. Milly pretends he can’t feel the stare reflected in the mirror behind the bar.
    â€˜You know a kid named Slim?’
    Foisey keeps his back to him. ‘Slim? Nope, sorry.’ But a twitch of his neck gives him away.
    â€˜You see all that snow out there?’ It’s the guy with the moustache, sitting down next to him with a coffee. Milly gives him a quick nod, keeping his eyes on Foisey’s back. ‘The same every year – first snow and everybody forgets how to drive.’ He takes off his hat and rubs the sweat off his bald head, snapping the hat back down quick