Backtracker (40 page)

Larry had been with Tom Martin the night of the suicide. Dave thought back to that night, last night, the night and early morning before his exam; he remembered what
he'd
seen, and he wondered why Larry had been at Martin
'
s house. He wondered if Larry had predicted the suicide and had come to try to prevent it; he wondered why, if Larry had tried to stop Martin from killing himself,
he'd
failed.

He remembered the lights. The lights had gone out before Larry had left the house. Had the dousing of those lights been a final request of the suicidal Tom Martin? Had Larry tried and failed to talk the manager out of killing himself, then extinguished the lights on Martin
'
s o
rder?

Dave wondered if Larry had
allowed
Martin to take his own life. Such behavior
wasn
'
t
without precedent, for Larry had seemed to foresee the deaths of Ernie
'
s parents but had apparently done nothing to try to save them. So soon after that tragedy, had Larry again let someone die when he could have effected a rescue?

With a heavy sigh, Dave moved from the counter on which
he'd
been leaning. One of the girls along the line was calling for rolls, and Dave knew that it was time to get back to work.

As he sluggishly tended to his job, he heard the door from the dishroom swoop open behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Larry hurrying out with a stack of clean trays.

In that instant, he swore that he would get to the truth, that he would solve the mystery of Larry Smith once and for all.

In that instant, he decided that he would confront Larry with what he knew and would hound and fight him until he finally broke down and confessed.

He would fight him.

He would do it tonight.

*****

Dave stood at the windowless metal door that led to the top floor of the run
-
down building in which Larry Smith lived. Nervously, he waited there for a moment, hands in the pockets of his coat; he took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, tried to work up the courage to take the next step.

Sighing, he finally turned his attention to the buzzer for the upstairs rooms
-
a small, gray box with two black buttons on the front, mounted at eye
-
level on the wall beside the door. Beneath one of the buttons was a strip of masking tape with
"
Smith
"
scrawled across it in black ink; there was no label under the other button.

Dave extended a finger toward the labeled button, then hesitated; an anxious shiver flickered through him and he took another deep breath. In pressing that button, he would be committing himself to what he knew would be a stressful confrontation with Larry. If the guy was home and came to answer the door, there would be no turning back, no retreat from the clash.

Dave had looked forward to the meeting all evening, had thought of little else since hearing about Martin
'
s suicide. At ten
-
thirty, when his shift at the steakhouse had ended,
he'd
rushed straight to Morton Borough and Larry
'
s home. Still, he was apprehensive about the encounter, agitated and reluctant to proceed.

Dropping his hand from the buzzer, he closed his eyes and marshaled his willpower; he remembered all that had happened, all that had brought him to that point, and he drew strength from the memories. In thinking of Boris, and Ernie
'
s parents, and Mr. Martin, he was reminded of the importance of what he was about to do. He felt a resurgence of anger and the need to know, the craving for answers.

He had
to do it. As difficult as the confrontation would likely be, he would have to trigger it or resign himself to ignorance. All other avenues of his investigation had failed miserably; if he truly wanted to know,
he had
to do it.

He had
to do it.

Dave opened his eyes and pressed the button.

For a moment, he heard no sound beyond the door. When he reached to press the button again, he at last heard footsteps on the stairs inside.

The footsteps drew near, each one causing Dave
'
s heartbeat to quicken; finally, there was a rustle from the other side of the door, then the clacking sound of the lock disengaging. The doorknob turned slowly and Dave held his breath.

The door glided open and Larry Smith appeared.

Though
he'd
expected to see the guy there, Dave was momentarily startled by his first glimpse of him. Surprisingly, Larry was silhouetted in a brilliant light, a blinding swath emanating from the top of the stairs. The glare was in sharp contrast to the last time that Dave had visited the place; it had been dark as a cave then, without even a single bulb to illuminate the stairs and hallway.

Squinting, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes, Dave nodded once in greeting.
"
Hey,
"
he said, fighting to keep his voice calm though his heart was pounding.
"
Hope I didn
'
t get you in the middle of something.
"

"
Well, not really,
"
said Larry, keeping one brawny hand on the doorknob.
"
I was just getting ready to hit the sack.
"

As his eyes became accustomed to the glare, Dave could see the guy more clearly. Larry wore his usual bluejeans and sleeveless black T
-
shirt; he was frowning, perhaps in puzzlement over the unexpected visit.
"
Well, could you spare a few minutes
?
"
Dave said tentatively.
"
I need to talk to you about something.
"

"
Go ahead,
"
shrugged Larry.
"
I
'
m listening.
"

"
I
'
d, uh...I
'
d rather discuss it upstairs,
"
said Dave, lowering his hand from his eyes.
"
It
'
s pretty important, y
'
know?
"

Larry
'
s frown deepened.
"
I really have to get some sleep,
"
he said.
"
What exactly do you want to talk to me about?
"

Sighing, Dave scuffed his feet on the sidewalk.
"
I don
'
t want to discuss it down here,
"
he said.
"
It
'
s really important.
"

Leaning out of the doorway, Larry coolly looked around.
"
There
'
s nobody out here,
"
he said.
"
Whatever it is, you can tell me right here.
"

"
I can
'
t talk about it down here,
"
persisted Dave, trying to sound forceful.
"
It
'
s just too important. Somebody might walk by or come out of the bar and they
'
d hear.
"

"
Nobody
'
s gonna
'
come back here,
"
Larry told him chidingly.

"
No,
"
Dave said flatly.
"
We need privacy. Believe me, when you hear what I
'
ve got to say, you
'
ll understand.
"

Larry snorted and wagged his head.
"
Geez,
"
he clucked sarcastically.
"
What
'
re you doing here, kid?
Playing secret agent or something?
"

"
Look,
"
Dave said grimly.
"
I
'
m not playing games, Larry. I need to talk to you about something
serious
, and I need to do it in private.
"
Well aware that he posed no physical threat to Larry, that the guy could easily flick him away and slam the door shut in an instant, Dave attempted to face him down. In the back of his mind, he worried about what Larry could do to him if he were provoked, how much damage those massive arms of his could inflict...but he was dead
-
set on having his way, would risk a thrashing to get what he wanted.

Larry sighed and rolled his eyes.
"
So what is it you want to talk to me about
?
"
he drawled.
"
What
'
s so
serious
that you can
'
t tell me right here?
"

Dave swallowed. He fixed his faze unflinchingly to Larry
'
s, maintained a stony, challenging glare.
"
Let
'
s go up to your room,
"
he said coldly.
"
We
'
ll talk about it there.
"

For a moment, Larry stared at him, and his expression changed; his frown of annoyance shifted to a scowl of extreme displeasure.
"
No,
"
he said, folding his arms over his broad chest.
"
I don
'
t have time for this nonsense. If you have something to say, then say it. Otherwise, let me get some sleep.
"

Dave stood his ground. He
hadn
'
t
expected such an early impasse,
hadn
'
t
thought that Larry would turn him away before hearing him out, but he
wasn
'
t
ready to surrender.

He decided that it was time to play his first card.
He'd
hoped to save it, use it later for maximum shock value, but he now realized that it was probably his only ticket to Larry
'
s sanctum.

"
I
'
m going to the police,
"
said Dave.
"
If you won
'
t do as I ask, I
'
m going straight to the police.
"

A cruel smirk curled across Larry
'
s face.
"
Why is that
?
"
he asked condescendingly.

"
You were at Martin
'
s last night,
"
said Dave.
"
I saw you.
"

Larry
'
s expression
didn
'
t
change; he was giving away nothing, not even the dimmest flicker of surprise.
"
I wasn
'
t at Martin
'
s,
"
he said coolly.

"
Yes you were,
"
nodded Dave.
"
You were there from before eleven
-
thirty to three in the morning. You drove a green station wagon.
"

"
I don
'
t have a green station wagon,
"
said Larry.
"
You must have seen somebody else.
"

"
It was you,
"
declared Dave.
"
How do you think the cops will react when I tell them you were with Martin the night he killed himself? Don
'
t you think they
'
ll be interested?
"

Larry just shrugged.
"
I don
'
t think they
'
ll care,
"
he said.
"
I think they
'
ll ask you what drugs you
'
ve been taking.
"

"
I saw you,
"
pressed Dave.
"
I was watching the whole time.
"

"
You been following me around
?
"
Larry asked calmly.

"
No,
"
said Dave.
"
I just happened to be there the same time you were.
"

"
Well, if you
'
d been following me around, you
'
d know I wasn
'
t at Martin
'
s last night. I was at work, and then I was here.
"

Dave began to realize that he
wasn
'
t
getting anywhere, that his revelation
hadn
'
t
intimidated Larry one bit.
"
You
were
at Mr. Martin
'
s house last night,
"
he continued, straining to rethink his strategy.
"
I
did
see you there.
"

Abruptly, Larry broke into a wide grin.
"
Wait a minute,
"
he said slowly, strange good humor in his tone.
"
I
get it. This is a joke, isn
'
t it? You and Billy are trying to put one over on me, huh?
"

"
It
'
s no joke,
"
Dave stated evenly.
"
Billy has nothing to do with this.
"