One Fool At Least (7 page)

Randy turned in his chair and looked at me as if I had turned into a tarantula. “You said you didn’t know anything about it. You said you never heard of Slider.”

I sighed. “I didn’t, until your brother came to my wedding and told me about him, and then gave me time to do some research.” I let him process that. “I read about Finn Flanagan in the paper. And Molly told me that Slider was her boyfriend. So now I know
who
he is, just not
where
he is. Why do you think he’s with the Sheas, anyway?”

“You just said it. His girlfriend is there. You know teenage boys, right? He’s not going far from her. Plus the Sheas have this reputation as liberal do-gooders, so they’d be looking to help the kid.” He spoke the words with distaste.

“But what if your boss killed Finn? Don’t you feel bad about putting a young boy in danger?”

Randy’s brows drew together. “You don’t know anything about my boss. Don’t go accusing him of murder.”

“Why would someone murder Flanagan?” I persisted. “Was he a bad guy?”

Randy shrugged. “He was a troublemaker, I’ll tell you that. He pissed off my brother by deciding the bar wouldn’t order their supplies from us. That was a couple years ago. He said he had found someone he liked better. And plus he was knee deep in women. One of them could easily want to murder him, if she found out about the others. I even seen him with the girls in your hubby’s family.”

“What?”

“You know. That pretty Shea gal. I don’t know if she was into it, what with Slider being her boyfriend, but I seen them together. The mother, too.”

“Libby?” I asked. I pictured Libby holding Pat’s hand on the plane. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Right. And lots of others. He was good looking, I’ll give him that. But Slider, he’d been hanging around Finn the most. Finn was even letting him hang out in the bar, even though he was under age. And he was there that night Finn died; I know because I was, too. Kid came wandering in after some party and just hung out. Then the next day Finn was dead and Slider was gone.”

“But lots of people were there, I imagine. Why does your boss want Slider?”

I adjusted my leg, trying to find a placement that didn’t cause pain. I failed.

“I dunno. It’s not my business, but obviously he wants Slider to come in and answer questions. He had to answer questions, too, when the police talked to him.”

“So why go to the lengths of kidnapping me? Why not let the police find Slider? And why, Randy, are you willing to do it? Do you know you’ll go to jail for this? And how far is it going to go? Does your boss plan to kill me?” I asked, chilled by my own words.

“Don’t be silly,” Randy said, his eyes flicking back to the game. “You weren’t even supposed to—”

“Supposed to what?”

He scratched his ear.

“Supposed to what, Randy? Was I not supposed to be here?”

Randy cleared his throat. I heard Jim yelling in the kitchen, saying “We thought that’s what you wanted, for fuck’s sake! Now what the hell am I supposed to do with her?”

I wasn’t supposed to be here
, I realized with a start. It wasn’t me that they had been told to detain. I had simply been easy, falling down the stairs as I did, waiting in the wheelchair like a sitting duck.

“Randy, you were supposed to get Molly, weren’t you? You were supposed to grab Molly, because she would bring Slider out of the woodwork. Right?” And even as I said it I knew it was true. Slider was out there; he had taken Molly’s food, he had stayed close to her house. If Molly went missing, Slider would come out, or so someone thought.

Randy ignored me, his chin jutting stubbornly. I sat for a while, stewing. Olaf finally ended his sinister phone call and came in to watch the game with Randy. He was angry, and his boss had obviously been angry. He had taken the wrong girl.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “I’m still really hungry. Can we order a pizza? I like pepperoni.”

Olaf stared at me for a while, shaking a cigarette out of his pack. “We’d be real stupid to order a pizza, so you could yell bloody murder to the delivery guy.”

“I’m just really hungry. What if I promise to be quiet? I mean, I think the police are going to find me soon anyway, but I’d like to have something to eat while I wait.” I tried out my earnest look.

Randy piped, “We don’t have shit to eat in here. You’d think he’d of left us some supplies, the cheap bastard. I thought he was going to have the kid see to it. They don’t stock these rental houses, and he should know that.”

Jim snorted. “The kid don’t do anything he says. Why do you think he lives in that cheap-ass house and does odd jobs when he could just take his Daddy’s money? It’s all just an act to piss Dad off. Besides, he’s in the big house half the time, lying around and drinking the old man’s liquor.”

“So about the pizza?” I said.

Olaf shrugged, still looking at me. “I suppose we could do that. You’d have to keep quiet when the delivery guy came. We’ll have to see that you’re out of the room.”

“Sure. Thanks,” I said.

Olaf disappeared into the kitchen again, and once more I heard his voice on the phone. When he returned, he said, “Forty minutes. Oh, do you believe that fumble? They pay those guys a million billion fuckin dollars to do crap like that.”

I tried to summon up some football knowledge to get in good with the guys. Nothing happened. My brain must have been addled by the caffeine and pain-killer combo. All I could think of was the name Knute Rockne, and I didn’t know if he was even a football player. I just thought it was a cool name.

I had a vague, hazy sort of plan. If I could be near the door when the pizza man came, I could plead with him to call the police. Or maybe I could be near the back door. I hadn’t seen it, but I knew there was one, because Olaf had opened it noisily to get a six pack of beer from what must have been the back porch. What if I went out the back door while they paid the pizza man, then slipped around and got in the pizza man’s car?

I then listed the problems with that idea. One, it wouldn’t take both of them to pay the pizza man. Two, I had a broken foot, and couldn’t “slip around” anywhere. Three, Olaf had a gun. Four, Sven might have a gun. Five, I didn’t like guns, having once been shot by one. I sighed loudly and adjusted myself in my chair, consulting my watch. About half an hour had gone by since Olaf had made the call.

“Randy,” I said. “Nature calls again.”

Randy rolled his eyes. “You’ve got little kidneys, lady,” he said. “But I can relate.” In a weird way he seemed to enjoy it, the chatting with me, and the long limping walks. I wondered if he were lonely.

Olaf called, “I’m going to grab some wood for the fire. It’s getting cold in here.”

It
was
getting cold. In the bathroom, even the toilet seat was cold. Apparently in Montana they hadn’t heard that summer should be hot. I washed my hands, then opened the door and looked both ways. Front door to my right, back door to my left. Just then Sven appeared. “Gotta pass some beer, lady, so move yourself out of there.” He slipped into the room and shut the door.

The doorbell rang. Fate was on my side. Sven was trapped; from what I could hear, a veritable river of urine had just started to flow, and there was no stopping it now. I limped to the door as fast as I could, grimacing with pain. I opened it; a giant man stood there, holding a pizza and smiling amiably.

“Oh, they’ve got the money,” I said. “They’ll be with you in a moment.” And then I lunged past him into what had now become darkness, first hopping on one foot and then trying to walk with both of them. That didn’t go so well. I’d planned to walk into the woods and then flag the pizza guy down on his way out, but I didn’t know how far I could make it. In desperation, I got on my hands and knees and crawled.

I’d only gotten about ten feet when the pizza guy called, “What are you doing?”

“Shhh!” I hissed. “They’ll hear you. I’m escaping, if you must know, but my foot is broken.”

I couldn’t see his face, just his huge body in silhouette. “In the car,” he said.

“They’ll look there.” I was still on my knees like a doggie.

“I’ll be sure they don’t.”

He spoke with such authority that I crawled to his car, which was blessedly near. I opened the back door and climbed onto the floor. I shut the door as quietly as I could, then heard all hell break loose.

“Where the hell is she?” I heard Jim/Olaf yell.

Sven tried to be calm. “She’s got a fuckin’ broken ankle, she can’t be far. Did a girl come out here?” He must have been talking to the pizza man. “Thing is, she’s our granddaughter, and we just got her out of the psychiatric ward. If she gets away, she’ll do herself some damage.”

The pizza man, who I’d come to think of as my savior, said, “Didn’t see anyone. That’s ten ninety-five.”

I heard Olaf swear and rustle around in his pockets for the money. “We need to look in your car before you go,” he said.

The pizza man said something low and authoritative. Then Olaf said, “Hell, you need to just butt out.”

Oh God, I thought. He’s pulling his gun. He’s going to kill the pizza man and find me. I waited, and heard nothing at all. Then the sound of what seemed to be the quiet closing of a door.

Suddenly the driver’s door opened, and the big guy got in, whistling.

“What happened?” I whispered from the floor behind him. “Did he pull a gun on you?”

“He wouldn’t dare. Sort of showed it to me,” he said, and resumed whistling.

“Then what?” I demanded.

“My gun was bigger. I persuaded them to go sit in their living room. But we’d better make tracks. They can’t do much without drawing attention; there are other houses dotted in among these trees.” The car suddenly lurched, and we veered away.

My teeth began to chatter. “You have a gun?” I said. “To deliver pizzas?”

He was unperturbed. “Hey, I’ve got a license. Besides, some creepy people order pizzas. A guy has to protect himself. So what did Randy and Jim want with you? I take it you’re not their granddaughter?”

“How do you know their names?” I asked.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. Everyone knows Randy and Jim. I shopped at their place all through my childhood. Bruder Brothers Supply. It’s just up the road a ways, but now it’s Wilde Emporium.”

“They kidnapped me,” I said. “I don’t know exactly why. It has to do with a boy named Slider. Can I sit up now?” I began to do so and caught him regarding me with surprise in the rearview. The whole car smelled like pizza, and I was starving. “Can I eat one of those pizzas?” I asked.

“None left. That was the last delivery on my shift. It’s the smell that lingers. But I’ll take you down to the bar and you can order some food there.”

“Okay.” I pulled out my cell phone and pressed redial. Nothing happened. “Shit!” I said.

“Problem?”

“Other than being kidnapped and having a broken foot, you mean?” I was near tears again.

“Yeah.” He was amused. I thought it was rude to be amused about a kidnapping, and I told him so, sprinkling my impassioned speech with lots of swear words I hadn’t tried out since high school. “Sorry,” he said, still looking amused. “So what’s the problem? Your phone not working?”

“No. Is there a phone at this bar? I think my battery’s dead.”

“Yup. I’ll have you there in no time. Who do you need to call?”

“My husband. He’s going to come rescue me. Or the police—they’ve been looking for me for hours. This is my honeymoon.”

He laughed right out loud. “Don’t tell me! Then a troop of aliens will land on the earth and avenge your kidnapping by eating the brains of everyone in Montana.”

I stared at the back of his head, my mouth hanging open. He didn’t believe me.

Anger surged into me in a giant red wave. “Why the hell did you help me if you thought I was a lunatic?” I yelled.

“Seemed fun at the time,” he said. “Everyone likes pimping Jim and Randy, so that’s nothing new.”

“Pimping?”

“You know. Practical jokes. I figured I wanted in on this one.”

“For God’s sake, it’s not a joke. They said they wanted Slider, and that they wouldn’t return me until they got him.”

He was silent for a moment. “Slider, huh? The Cardini kid? How’d you break your foot, anyway?”

“I fell off a plane.”

More hooting from the front seat. “From what, like twenty-thousand feet? Or was it flying low, and that’s how you managed to survive?”

I shook my head. Unbelievable. My big rescuer and his big gun turned out to be nothing but a fool who refused to see logic. “Listen, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I need to get to this bar and use this phone, and get myself happily installed at the Shea residence, where my honeymoon will commence and Jim, Randy, Sven, Olaf, and especially you will seem like a bad dream.”

That wiped the smile off his face. “Did you say the Sheas?”

“Yes. My new family. The Sheas.”

He whistled, long and low. We were pulling into a parking lot of a place lit up by an orange neon sign that read “The Bar at the Foot of the Hill.” He turned to face me. “Are you Madeline?”

That one almost knocked me off the seat onto which I had just managed to climb. Was this the twilight zone? I wondered as I stared at his grizzled face. He seemed suddenly contrite. “How do you know my name?” I said warily.

“Oh, God. You’re Madeline, the girl on the paper. Oh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

At the time I thought he meant that I worked for a newspaper. I didn’t think to wonder how he knew, especially when he said, suddenly concerned, “Good Lord, girl, what the hell kind of honeymoon is this?”

He believed me. He no longer thought I was crazy. He was sympathetic. All of those things dawned on me in an instant, and I started to cry. Loud, lusty and long would describe the way I cried, helplessly racked by sobs, all under the watchful and pitying eye of the pizza delivery man. He finally got out, got in the back seat with me, and took me in his arms. He smelled nice, not like pizza at all, but more like after shave and, surprisingly, limes.

I sat in his clumsy embrace until the tears stopped. He was warm, and I felt like going to sleep. “How do you know my name?” I asked.