"S" is for Silence (24 page)

The ambulance arrived and three paramedics alighted, like firemen on a run. By then Foley had staggered to his feet and was ready to fight the son of a bitch who'd knocked him on his buns. He was belligerent, lashing out, fending off the paramedic who was offering first aid. With the blood oozing out of his nose and welling across his upper lip, he looked like a vampire interrupted in the course of a gory feast. The waitress brought him a plastic bag packed with ice and wrapped in a kitchen towel. Grimacing, she passed it to him and returned to the restaurant as quickly as possible. While his upper bridge had gone flying, his lower teeth had been forced through his lip. He held the ice pack to his mouth, the towel turning a saturated red. He declined medical attention, so the paramedics had no choice but to climb back in the ambulance and drive away.

Foley slumped onto the wooden steps and leaned his head against the rail, talking to himself.

Daisy bent over him. “Dad, listen to me. Would you listen? You need to see a doctor.”

“I don't need a doctor. Leave me be.” He scanned the area around him, his eyes out of focus. “Where'd my bridge go? I can't hardly talk without my teeth.”

“Don't worry about that. I've got it. I need your keys.”

He leaned sideways, nearly losing his balance as he dug in his pants pocket and came up with the keys.

Daisy snatched them and passed them to me before she turned back to him. “I want you to get in the car. I'm taking you to the emergency room. Kinsey's going to follow us in your truck. And don't argue.”

“I wasn't arguing,” he said in a cranky, argumentative tone.

We helped him to his feet. He was woozy from the whiskey and woozy from the blow to his face. The two of us guided him, staggering, to Daisy's car, which was parked on the street and mercifully close. She unlocked the passenger's-side door and opened it. Foley shrugged off any further help, claiming he could manage. He held on to the door frame, eased himself half the distance to the seat, and then fell the rest, groaning at the jolt.

“It's your own fault,” she snapped. “Move your hand.”

He managed to remove his hand from the frame half a second before she slammed the door. She opened the trunk and snatched a terry-cloth towel from her gym bag. Disgusted, she opened the door again and tossed it to him. “Don't bleed on the upholstery.”

She pointed out his truck in the parking lot and then slammed the trunk lid shut as she rounded the back of the car. I walked over to the truck and let myself in while she started her car. She waited until I was nosing out of the parking lot before she put her car in gear and pulled onto the street ahead of me.

She drove him to the ER at the hospital where she worked. By that time Foley had settled down, perhaps recognizing the enormity of his sins. Even having his nose broken wasn't going to be sufficient penance to redeem him in Daisy's eyes. She put his name on the register, and when he was called she accompanied him into the examining room. I sat in the waiting room, leafing through a magazine while Foley was being worked on. After forty minutes, she came out and sank into the chair next to mine.

I said, “How's it going?”

“He'll be fine. They've called in an ear, nose, and throat specialist to reset his nose. The doctor's also ordered a CAT scan since he suffered a brief loss of consciousness. They said they'd bring me in again when he's back from radiology.”

“Will they keep him overnight?”

“Doesn't look that way,” she said as she got up. “Let me see if I can find a pay phone and call the pastor. There's no way I'm taking him home with me.” She took her purse and headed off down the hall. Less than five minutes later she was back. “Blessings on the man. He asked a few questions and then said he'd be waiting whenever Dad was released. The parish house is right next door to the church, and he says he's welcome as a guest as long as he needs help. I don't know where he'd be if it weren't for that man.”

Friday night was apparently the equivalent of date night in the ER world, a popular occasion for accidents and mishaps, pain, suffering, and near-death experiences. A kid was brought in with a bean stuck up his nose. There was a woman hacking and feverish from a case of the flu, and a man with a sprained ankle swollen to elephantine proportions. A teen arrived holding his badly broken thumb, smashed by a car door and looking so mangled I nearly passed out.

Unfazed, Daisy pulled the clip out of her hair and gathered it in a tidy sheaf before she secured it again. Foley's accusation about Jake's affair with Violet seemed to hang in the air between us. “All I can say is thank god Tannie wasn't there.”

“She's bound to hear about it,” I said.

“You bet. My phone would be ringing off the hook if anybody knew she was there.”

I set the magazine aside. “You have to wonder what went on. Was there really an affair, or did your dad imagine the whole thing?”

“He's not famous for his imagination. Tannie's mother was sick for a good two years. It was ‘female trouble,' too, so there's every possibility their sex life sucked.” She shook her head and let out a deep breath. She extended her legs and slouched down on her spine so that her head was resting on the back of the seat. “Was there anyone she didn't screw? My mother must have been crazy as a loon.”

“Well, it's like the fella said. You're not responsible for what she did.”

“But I'm responsible for stirring this up. I should have left well enough alone.”

The big digital wall clock read 10:16. I got up, too restless to sit another minute in the midst of all the medical chaos. “I'm going to see if I can find a cup of coffee. You want one?”

“Not me. My nerves are jangled enough.”

The fluorescent lights in the public hallways shone brightly on the gleaming vinyl-tile floors. Most departments I passed were dark; hospital administration, the cardiovascular, EKG, and EEG departments. I turned a corner and followed the corridor until I reached the main lobby. A sign indicated that the cafeteria was one floor down, but when I got off the elevator in the basement, the place was dark and the door was locked. According to the sign, the coffee shop was open from 7:00
A.M.
until 7:15
P.M.
on weekdays. I'd missed by hours. A maintenance man appeared with a mop and an industrialsize bucket. Together we waited for the elevator, which had stopped on the first floor.

“Is there a vending machine around here?”

He shook his head. “Wish there were. I could use a candy bar about now.”

The elevator doors opened and we got on. When we emerged on the first floor, I glanced to my left and spotted Liza Clements sitting in the lobby. Her complexion looked washed out and her jeans and T-shirt were wrinkled. I called out to her and moved in her direction. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“My granddaughter was born a few minutes ago. I'm keeping out of everybody's hair until she's cleaned up. Kevin's upstairs with Marcy, and both of her parents are here. Six pounds, six ounces. She's absolutely beautiful.”

“That's great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It's been pretty intense. What about you? I didn't expect to see a familiar face.”

I gave her a quick rendition of Foley's nose-busting adventure, neatly omitting the remarks that had gotten him tossed out of the Moon.

“Is there any way to get a cup of coffee at this hour?” she asked.

“Nope. I tried. I guess we could find a water fountain but that's about it.”

We ended up sitting together in the main lobby for lack of any place better. It was a small cheerless area clearly not intended as a waiting room. At least the ER had offered a television set and a few live green plants. I said, “You heard about the car?”

“That's all anybody's talking about. I guess there's no doubt it's hers.”

“Not in my mind. I mean, what are the chances another car would be buried out where hers was last seen?”

She shifted in her chair. “I'm going to 'fess up to something, but I don't want to hear you scream. You promise?”

“Scout's honor.”

“As it so happens, I saw Foley at the Tanner property that Friday night.”

“Doing what?”

“Tinkering with a bulldozer that was parked near the road. I heard him start it up.”

“You're positive it was Foley?”

“I couldn't
swear
it was him, but who else could it be?”

“Just about anyone,” I said. “In the as-it-so-happens department, what were you doing there?”

“Ty and I had gone out to the house. We weren't supposed to be dating, and it was the only place we could think of where we wouldn't be seen. We were in that second-floor bedroom in front when we heard him drive up.”

“And you were…what—smoking dope? Making out?”

She rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind one ear. “Oh, please. None of us smoked dope in those days. We're talking about the '50s. We were square as they come.”

“So you were doing what?”

“Okay, we were necking if you must know the truth. When the car pulled up, we thought it was a security guard coming to check on the house, so we hightailed it out the back and waited until we heard the 'dozer start up. Ty figured that would cover the sound of the truck.”

“So you didn't actually see Foley face on?”

“I just told you that. The point is, if it
was
him, he had plenty of time to dig a hole.”

“What kind of car? I'm assuming you'd have recognized the Bel Air.”

“Of course. Most of the time I can't tell one kind of car from another, but I know it wasn't Violet's. Her car was pale and it would have stood out. There was enough of a moon that it would have been obvious.”

“What do you remember about the car? Two-door? Four-door? Light? Dark?”

She made a face, shaking her head in the negative. “I
saw
it, but I didn't really look. I was scared we'd get caught and that's all I cared about. And before you even ask, no, I didn't tell the guys from the sheriff's department.”

“Because you didn't want to admit you were trespassing?”

“Because at the time, it didn't mean anything. Violet wasn't even missing. When we saw the guy—Foley, or whoever—it wouldn't have occurred to me he'd be doing anything like that. Digging a grave. God, it gives me goose bumps. I'm only telling you now because we know the car is buried there.”

“You remember anything else?”

“No. Well, yes. The guy was smoking. I remember that because we could smell it through the open window all the way upstairs.”

“Height? Weight? Anything like that?”

“Nope. It was dark and I only caught a glimpse. You think I should talk to the detective?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Even if it gets Foley in more trouble?”

“You can't even claim it was him. All you can say is there was a guy out there working on a bulldozer. The detective's name is Nichols. He needs to know.”

 

By the time I got back to the emergency room, Foley had been released. He emerged from the examining area, clutching a head trauma precaution sheet and the pain pills he'd been given to take home with him. His eyes were already looking bruised, and I imagined that by the next day, the purple would be intense. He had a splint taped over the bridge of his nose, and it made his eyes seem as close together as a collie's. Both nostrils had been packed with half-inch-wide strips of white cloth, and I could see sutures across his chin. I had to guess there were others on the inside of his mouth. Luckily for him, the pain medication was wiping out the ill effects of his drinking binge. He looked subdued. His eyes were fixed on Daisy's with the mute, pleading look a puppy lays on you when there are table scraps at stake.

Daisy drove him into Cromwell, me trailing along behind in his truck as I had before. When she pulled into the driveway of the parish house, the porch light came on. The pastor pushed a curtain aside and peered out, then opened the front door in his slippers, pajamas, and a soft flannel robe. I parked in front, locked the truck, and crossed to Daisy's car, where I handed Foley his keys. He wouldn't meet my eyes and I could feel the embarrassment rolling off him like sweat. The pastor held open the screen door and Foley disappeared inside. Daisy had a few words with the man and then returned to her car.

We got in. For a moment, she sat staring through the windshield, her hands on the steering wheel.

“You okay?”

“I'll tell you what's weird. You know when you see a movie they have those previews of coming attractions? This feels like a preview of past attractions. I don't remember seeing my father drunk, but this has to be what he was like when he was married to my mom. Not nice.”

“Yeah, and I'll bet he looks about like she did when he beat the hell out of her.”

She turned the key in the ignition. “At least now you know why I'm so screwed up.”

“You know something, Daisy? You're not that screwed up. I've seen a lot worse.”

“Oh, thanks. I feel much better now that you've said that.”

 

We drove to Santa Maria in silence. The two-lane road was deserted at that hour, dark agricultural land stretching out on both sides as far as the eye could see. We passed a corrugated metal building sitting in a sea of asphalt and surrounded by chain-link fencing. The area was awash in a cold, silver light, but there was no sign of life. To the west, concealing the sight of the ocean beyond, a swell of low-lying hills formed a scalloped silhouette against the night sky. Daisy checked her rearview mirror as a set of headlights popped into view. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting the car to speed up and pass. Daisy was cruising at a sedate sixty miles an hour, but drivers on country roads get impatient.