I Know What You Did Last Summer (14 page)

"Quite a bit," Bud said. "Does that bother you?"

"Sure," Ray said wryly, "but there doesn't seem to be much I can
do about it. She used to be my steady girl. I'll warn you now, I'm
going to do everything I can to get her back again."

"Are you now?" There was a hint of amusement in Bud's voice.
"Well, you can try, but it's not that easy to go back and pick up a
relationship again once you've let it go down the drain. If Julie
still means that much to you, why did you take off on her?"

"I didn't take off on
her,"
Ray said. "I felt like I
had to get away for awhile and do some thinking and kind of sort
out the way I felt about things."

"Sounds like escapism to me," Bud said shortly. "Plain running
away."

"It was," Ray admitted. "I know that now. That's why I came
back."

"Expecting to find everything blown over and back to
normal?"

"No. I didn't expect that." The subject was getting out of hand.
Ray shifted uncomfortably. The last person in the world he had
intended to spill his guts out to was the boy who represented his
competition for Julie.

"We had something pretty great going once," he said. "Julie and
I. Maybe I can get her to try it again. Maybe I can't. It'll be up
to her. I guess she told you, she's going east to college in a
couple of months."

"And you're planning to follow her?"

"I wish I could, but I didn't apply to any of the Ivy League
schools. Probably couldn't have gotten in if I had. I'll be staying
here. I'm going to register at the University."

"You know what you're going to take?"

"I think so," Ray said. "I've got an idea anyway. I think I
might go into education. I've always been pretty good at getting
ideas across to people. Back in high school I tutored the whole
damned football team, practically, to keep their grades high enough
so they could play. It may shake my dad up a little bit at first
getting used to the idea, but I think by this time he's faced the
fact that he's not going to have a professional athlete for a son.
I'm sure he'd rather see me a teacher than a filling station
attendant."

"I never would have thought of you as a kid-lover. Teaching is-"
Bud interrupted himself. "Here comes our lunch."

There was a break in the conversation while the waitress
unloaded the tray. Ray dumped sugar into his coffee and stirred it.
He had the uncomfortable feeling that he had been talking too much
to someone, who, while not an enemy, was certainly not a
friend. His whole purpose in having coffee with Bud Wilson was to
find out more about the guy. So far he had done nothing except
offer information about himself.

Now he tried to turn the conversation in another direction.

"You said you were in the hospital," he began. "Was that for a
war injury?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Bud closed that subject as
quickly as it had been opened.

"I'm sorry," Ray said awkwardly.

"That's okay. It's just not something I like to talk about. 'War
is hell,' Bronson." Bud picked up his sandwich and took a bite out
of it. "Don't remember who said that. Somebody famous. Somebody
who'd been through it. He laid it out pretty clearly with that
short statement It's bad enough shooting people and being
shot at, but that's the military-you tell yourself you're there for
that purpose, to kill people who are there to kill you-the army's
arranged it for you, and the good old USA is behind it, so
the whole thing's got the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. The
thing that gets to you is the kids. They don't even know what the
fighting's about -they're just mixed up in it because it's
happening where they live."

"Tough," said Ray, inadequately. There was a moment of silence.
He took a swallow of coffee and wondered why he had ordered it; the
thought of consuming a whole cup of the hot black liquid was more
than he could handle.

"Look," he said, I've got to be going."

Bud looked surprised. "But we just sat down."

"I know," Ray said. "I've got to make a phone call. It's
something I should have done earlier. It just slipped my mind."

"If it's to Julie," Bud said, "don't bother. I'm taking
her out tonight myself." He smiled. It was the first time he had
smiled since they had sat down together. I'll make you a bet about
something, Bronson."

"What?" Ray asked.

"I'll bet that Julie doesn't go to Smith in
September."

"You're nuts," Ray told him. "Of course, she's going. She's real
excited about it. What do you think is going
to
hold her
back?"

"I am." Bud made the statement with simple assurance. "She
doesn't know it yet. It's a long three months between now and
September."

"You're nuts," Ray said again as he got to his feet "Julie isn't
ready to settle down yet with anybody. She's not even
eighteen yet. She's not going to stay in this town for you or for
me or for anybody."

"We'll see about that." Bud raised his hand in a friendly
gesture of farewell. "It was good talking with you, Bronson. I'll
be seeing you around."

"Sure," Ray said. "Be seeing you."

He stopped at the counter to pay for his coffee and then stepped
into the phone booth by the door and dialed the number of the
James' house. There was a click, a pause, and the sound of the busy
signal. The dime fell out through the coin release slot, and he
pocketed it, feeling unreasonably angry. Whom could Julie be
talking to this early in the afternoon? She had just left her
school friends; there was nothing she would need to call them
about. The least she could have done was to be home waiting with
the phone on the hook when Ray called to tell her the results of
his talk with Barry.

His reaction was unreasonable, and he knew it. Julie had had no
idea that he was going to try to get in to see Barry today or that
he would be trying to call her. Whom she talked to after school was
her own business, just as it was her own business whom she went out
with in the evenings.

Except for this guy, Ray told himself helplessly. I don't want
her going out with him.

The conversation with Bud had shaken him more than he ever would
have anticipated. Up until now be had been thinking of him as kind
of an also-ran -a dull, nothing-type character whose sole function
was to fill in some time for Julie and give her ammunition to
use when her mother got on her back about the fact that she wasn't
dating.

Now, suddenly, he saw him differently. Bud was quiet, but far
from dull, with a seriousness and intensity that a sensitive
girl like Julie could find appealing. Even the difference in
their age no longer seemed to Ray to be in his own favor. Bud might
be three or four years older and wear his hair in a straight style,
but he was definitely not over the hill in any sense, and he had
the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and was determined
to get it.

And apparently what he wanted was Julie.

Well, he's not going to get her, Ray assured himself. Not
if I have anything to do with it.

He left the drugstore and walked back along the street to the
place where he had parked his father's car. He got into it and
started the motor. So lost was he in his thoughts that he did not
notice another car that pulled into line behind him and followed
him at a slight distance the whole way home.

chapter 15

Helen had just started down to the pool when she heard the
muffled sound of the telephone ringing inside her apartment

"You go on down," she told Collie who was walking beside her.
"It might be about Barry."

She let herself back into the apartment and caught the phone on
its sixth ring.

"Glad you answered-I was about ready to hang up." Ray's voice
through the receiver sounded thin and far away. "I've got some good
news for you. I saw Barry this afternoon, and he says the motive
for the shooting was robbery. It didn't have anything to do with
last summer. It was just some freak out to
get cash."

"You
saw Barry!"
Helen's mind went no further than the
initial statement. "But, how could you? You're not a
relative!"

"I didn't claim to be. I sneaked up the back stairs between
visiting hours." Ray said, "Did you understand what I just
told you about the shooting?"

"Yes, of course." Helen's hand tightened on the receiver. "How
is he, Ray? How did he look? Did he mention me at all?"

"I didn't talk to him very long," Ray said. "He didn't look
exactly great, but who would the day after a bullet's dug out of
his back? He was plenty lucid though. He knew what he was
saying."

"Do you think I could get in to see him too?" Helen asked him.
"If went up the way you did?"

"Look, Helen, I wouldn't try it." There was an odd note in Ray's
voice. "He's feeling pretty down right now and isn't exactly in the
mood for visitors even if the doctors would permit it You'd be
wiser to wait until he's feeling better."

"But if he was glad to see
you
-" Helen began.

"He wasn't And he wouldn't be to see you either. Believe me,
Helen, I know what I'm talking about He's depressed and feeling
rotten. Let him be for a while, okay?"

"Okay, Ray. Thanks for calling. Have you told Julie?"

"I haven't been able to get hold of her yet" Ray said. "But I'm
trying."

"Well, thanks again," Helen told him. "It's good to know the
rest of us don't have to worry about getting shot at."

She replaced the receiver on the hook with a sigh of mingled
relief and frustration.

The statement that Barry might not want to see her was, of
course, ridiculous-too ridiculous even to argue. If Barry was
feeling "depressed and rotten" it was exactly the time when he
needed to see her the most. There would be no sense in trying to go
over to the hospital tonight when his parents were sure to be
there, but she would certainly do so first thing in the
morning.

As for the motive of robbery for the attack on Barry-that
settled once and for all the question of breaking the pact. She
knew that as long as she lived she would never forgive Ray for
making that suggestion. The fact that he would even consider going
to the police without clearing the move with Barry first showed how
little honor he had for an agreement.

Suppose he had done it, she thought now. Suppose he had just
gone ahead and done it without even talking to Barry! He would have
ruined Barry's whole life for no reason at all.

She had tossed her towel and swimming cap onto the chair by the
telephone stand. Now she picked them up and started back across the
room to the door. She stepped through it, hesitated a moment, and
then pulled it closed without locking it.

"Terror time's over," she said aloud.

The words had a good ring to them, and she realized
suddenly, as she said them, that she
had
been
frightened-not frightened enough to agree to break the pact, but
good and nervous.

Well, that part's over, thank God, she thought as she walked
along the balcony and down the steps to the pool.

Collie was standing by one of the deck chairs, chatting with the
prettier of the two schoolteachers from Apartment 213. Actually, it
was the girl who was doing the talking. Collie was giving her
polite attention, but his eyes flicked immediately to Helen when
she appeared on the stairs and did not leave her as she came across
to join them.

"Hi," he said. "Important call?"

"A report on Barry. A friend of his crashed the guard and got in
to see him this afternoon. He was phoning to tell me about
him."

"How is poor Barry?" the schoolteacher asked. She gave Collie an
innocent smile. "Barry Cox is Helen's steady and a perfect doll.
It's no wonder she doesn't have eyes for anybody else, right,
Helen?"

"Right," Helen said agreeably. "And he's better, thank you. He's
going to be just fine."

"Good news," Collie said. "Come on. I'll race you the length of
the pool."

He dove in ahead of her and, standing by the pool's edge,
stuffing her long hair into the swimming cap, Helen watched him
swim, using long, powerful strokes as though to work off a
fit of anger.

The schoolteacher got up from her chair and came over to stand
beside her.

"You're a pig," she said, and the light little laugh that was
supposed to take the venom from the statement was forced.
"You're not playing fair."

Helen turned to her in surprise. "What are you talking
about?"

"How many guys do you need, for Pete's sake- one for every day
of the week?" The girl nodded toward Collie who had already nearly
completed the length of the pool. "You've got your beloved Barry.
Leave something for the rest of us!"

"Oh, Collie's just a friend," Helen said.

"Does
he
know that?"

"Of course! Why, he was the one who drove me down to the
hospital the night Barry was shot. He knows all about him."

"I don't care what he knows," the girl said shortly. "He hasn't
looked at anyone but you since the day he arrived. The rest of us
gals haven't been able to get so much as a conversation going with
him. He's polite enough, but he looks right through us as though
his mind were somewhere else entirely. If you must know-" she
laughed again, this time with real amusement, "I've gotten a lot
more of a reaction from Barry himself than I have from this
guy."

"Barry's nice to everybody," Helen said coolly. Turning her back
upon the girl, she fastened the capunder her chin, and dove into
the water.

The shock of the cold water jolted her into frenzied
motion. Like Collie before her, she began to swim with fast, strong
strokes to work off her fury. After a moment she felt calmer and
turned onto her back to look back at the girl behind her. She had
turned away from the pool now and was returning to her deck
chair.