Louis picked up the sack of groceries in his arm and turned, expecting to hear the woman scream as he pulled out his shirttail and hurried to wipe off the handle of the grocery cart he’d used. Louis left the store, not looking over at the counter, got in the car, like an oven with the windows closed, turned on the engine, the radio and the air-conditioning up high. After a minute or so he watched Bobby come out of the store counting bills, going through the money quick before folding it over and sticking it in his pants pocket.
When he was in the car he said, “You think I cut her finger off?”
“Never thought you wouldn’t,” Louis said.
That evening Harry said, “How about some booze? I got a condition that requires two fifths of vodka a day or I become dehydrated and liable to die. I know you don’t want that to happen. If you picked me up to whack me out, you’d have done it by now. So you must have another reason, huh?… What do you say? Bottle of Absolut. And a pack of Marlboros.”
Nothing.
Fucking creeps.
Harry sat in the darkness of his blindfold-he believed duct tape they’d wound around his head over a thin towel that covered his hair and served as padding over his eyes. Showing some consideration. But now when he told them he needed to bathe and change his clothes:
Silence.
No answer.
Nothing.
Sunday morning he asked how long he’d been here and how long they planned to keep him.
“And why?” Harry said. “You know what it’s like sitting here like this, chained, for Christ sake?”
No answer.
“’No man who has ever passed a month in the death cells believes in cages for beasts.’ You know who wrote that, you dumb fucks? Ezra Pound, that’s who. Ez was a very dear friend of mine.”
Harry waited, he didn’t know how long. He didn’t hear anything, not a sound, but said it anyway:
“Is anybody there?”
Louis found Chip in the kitchen making himself a Bloody Mary and asked him, “Who’s Ezra Pound?”
Chip said, “Ezra Pound,” stirring his drink and then pausing. “He was a heavyweight. Beat Joe Louis for the crown and lost it to Marciano. Or was it Jersey Joe Walcott?”
This Reverend Dawn Navarro was a cute girl, younger than Raylan had expected, say around thirty, her dark hair parted in the middle and hanging past her shoulders. She said, “Don’t tell me why you’re here, all right? The reason might be different than you think and it could confuse my reading.”
She sat him on an old mohair sofa, brought over a card table and a straight-back chair for herself, saying she would use psychometry, read him through touch, and once she was seated, placed slender fingers on his coal-miner hands resting flat on the table. Closing her eyes she said, “Do you have a feeling someone wants to contact you?”
“Not that I know of,” Raylan said, sitting forward on the edge of the sprung sofa; he had to look up at her in the straight chair.
“I mean from the other side, the spirit world,” Reverend Dawn said. “As you came across the yard I saw a presence with you dressed in black, wearing a long cape with folds in it.” Her fingers stroked the veins on the back of his hands.
Raylan said, “A presence?”
“Someone who’s left this earth plane. I don’t mean this particular entity represents death and is after you. No, you’re still full of energy, I can tell. I see you working outdoors rather than in an office.”
Without telling her anything Raylan said he was outside quite a bit.
Reverend Dawn told him the presence she saw out in the yard with him was a spirit guide, like a protector, to make sure he got here okay. She said they sometimes wore capes like that-the idea, to wrap it around you if need be. She said, “Wait now, whoa, I’m starting to feel another presence,” and then smiled, still with her eyes closed. “It’s the gray wolf; he came in the house with you.”
Raylan looked over his shoulder, to one side and then the other, not expecting to see a wolf but checked anyway.
“He was in the street as you got out of your car,” Reverend Dawn said, “and I thought he was just some stray I hadn’t seen before. Uh-unh, it’s a beautiful gray wolf, another kind of spirit guide. You know the senses of a wolf are very keen. He’s telling me, he’s letting me know it isn’t someone anxious to contact you, it’s the other way around. You need to talk to somebody, get a certain matter settled.”
Raylan said, “A person in the spirit world?”
“No, it’s someone close by, though I don’t see him yet.”
Reverend Dawn Navarro, Certified Medium & Spiritualist on her business card, would look up with her eyes closed and shake her head to one side, a quick little move to get her hair out of her face. The way her hair was parted in the middle and hung long and straight made Raylan think of how girls looked back in the days of hippies and flower children. Otherwise she seemed to have no particular style, wearing jeans and a loose white T-shirt. He believed her eyes were green and would check it out when she opened them again. He had already decided she was good-looking enough to be in a pageant or have a job on TV pointing to game-show prizes. The only thing that bothered him about her, looking at her hands resting on his, she bit her fingernails as far down as he had ever seen fingernails bitten.
“Did you know,” Reverend Dawn said, “you have psychic powers of your own?”
He thought of Joyce accusing him of it.
“All that energy in you.”
“Is that right?”
“You like to help people,” she said. “I see you taking someone by the arm.”
Raylan didn’t comment. Then she didn’t speak either, her head raised as though listening for something. The house was quiet, this little stucco place full of old furniture and knickknacks sitting on shelves.
“The message I’m getting,” Reverend Dawn said, “there’s an individual you’re having a disagreement with and you want to get it settled. Now what I’m getting”-she paused-“yes, it could be someone who’s gone over to the other side.”
Raylan gave it some thought and said, “Did I harm this person in any way?”
She shook her head, eyes still closed. “I’m not getting any kind of vibes like that. I think it’s something that was left undone, something that’s been bothering you and you want it cleared up. That’s the message I’m getting. There was some kind of disagreement between you and this person?”
“Well, there’s one I can think of.”
Raylan paused and Reverend Dawn said right away, “That’s who it is, the first one who comes to mind.”
Raylan paused again. “I was responsible, you might say, for his death.”
This time Reverend Dawn said, “Oh,” and opened her eyes. They were green. “Your fault-you’re not talking about an accident, like a car wreck, something you caused.”
“Nothing like that,” Raylan said. “But see, the thing between us was settled. There isn’t anything left has to be done.”
She kept staring at him now as she said, “You’re positive of that?” Not sounding as psychic as she did before, telling him about earth planes and spirit guides. She said, “What about a relative?”
“My dad’s over there,” Raylan said. “Died of black lung before his time. I’d just as soon leave him rest in peace.”
“I mean a relative of the one you had something to do with his passing over,” Reverend Dawn said. “A person that might be holding a grudge against you.”
Raylan shook his head. “I doubt it.”
Reverend Dawn seemed to study him, thinking, making up her mind. Finally then she closed her eyes again and raised her face as though to stare off past him, a really nice-looking girl, while her figure remained a mystery beneath that loose T-shirt.