We Begin at the End(9)

“You want me to stick around?”

“You get back, do what you do now.”

“I’ll check in later.”

Vincent walked him to the door and offered a hand.

Walk pulled him into a hug, his friend, back now. He tried not to feel the flinch, the way Vincent tensed up.

They both turned when they heard the engine. Walk watched the Escalade. Dickie Darke.

Darke climbed out. He wore his size like an ill-fitting suit. Shoulders slumped, eyes down. He dressed in black each day, jacket, shirt, pants. Distracted, affected.

“Vincent King.” His voice was deep, serious. “I’m Dickie Darke.” No smile. Never a smile.

“I got your letters,” Vincent said.

“The town must look different now.”

“It does. The wishing tree is about the only thing I still recognize. You remember we used to stash cigarettes in the hole under there, Walk?”

Walk laughed. “And a sixer of Sam Adams.”

Darke finally looked up and met Walk’s eye with the kind of stare that chilled him. Then Darke eyed the house. “The last of the front line. You own the land behind as well.”

Vincent looked at Walk.

“I’ll pay a million. Current value is eight-fifty, the state it’s in. And the market is turning.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“You’ll have a price.”

Walk smiled. “Come on, Darke. The man just got home.”

Darke stared a little longer. And then he turned and left them, strolling, unhurried, so big his shadow cast far.

Vincent watched him, his eyes locked on Darke like he could see something Walk could not.

*

Duchess had an arrangement with the kindergarten teacher, Miss Dolores; she would let Robin stick around for three long hours till Duchess finished class each day, mainly because Walk had stepped in and asked, and also because Robin was not even the slightest bother.

When Robin saw her he tidied his things, picked up his bag and ran over. Duchess knelt and hugged him, then waved to Miss Dolores and they turned.

She helped Robin slip the straps over his shoulders and then checked he had his storybook inside and his water bottle.

“You didn’t eat your sandwich.” She glared.

“Sorry.”

The school bus passed, parents in SUVs, teachers out on the grass and chatting as kids tossed a football beside.

“You need to eat, Robin.”

“It’s just …”

“What?”

“You didn’t put anything inside,” he said reluctantly.

“Bullshit.”

He looked down at his shoes.

Duchess unzipped his pack and took out the sandwich. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll fix hotdogs when we get in.”

He smiled at that.

They kicked a stone together, kept it going till they got to the end of East Harney and Robin sent it into a drain.

“Did the kids say things, about Mom?” he said, as she took his hand and they crossed the street.

“No.”

“Ricky Tallow did, he said his mom told him about our mom.”

“What did she say?”

They ducked beneath the limbs of a willow and cut down the track between Fordham and Dupont.

“She said he couldn’t come to our house because Mom wouldn’t watch us right.”

“You could go there.”

“His mom and dad are always yelling at each other.”

She mussed his hair. “You want me to talk to her, see if I can sort something?”

“Yes.”

Duchess knew Leah Tallow. Cape Haven PD, just her and Walk and an auxiliary named Louanne, who was old as shit. Duchess couldn’t imagine any of them working a real crime.

“Ricky said he’ll move into his brother’s room when he leaves for college. He said his brother has an aquarium. Can we get one?”

“You’ve got a mask. Go look at fish in the sea.”

When they got to Main they saw a group of girls outside Rosie’s Diner, same group, always, drinking shakes and taking over two tables in the sun. Whispers and laughter as they passed.

They went into the grocery store, Mrs. Adams at the counter.

Duchess found a pack of frankfurters and Robin fetched the buns. She took out her purse and counted out three dollars in bills, all she had.

Robin looked up. “Can we get French’s?”

“No.”

“We need ketchup at least. It’ll be dry.”

Duchess took the can and the buns up.

“How’s your mother doing?” Mrs. Adams looked down over her glasses.

“Fine.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Why the fuck did you ask then?”

Robin tugged her hand. Mrs. Adams might’ve told her to leave but Duchess tossed three dollar bills onto the counter before she could.

“Don’t curse like that,” Robin said, as they walked up Main.

“How’s your mother today?”

Duchess turned and saw Milton, out front of his butcher shop. He wiped his hands down his apron, blood smeared.

Robin walked up to the glass and looked at the rabbits, hooked at the throat.