Cockeyed - Stevenson Richard (прочитать книгу .txt) 📗

“That’s part of it.”

164 Richard Stevenson

“Variety is nice.”

“I can’t deny that.”

“Well, maybe some of the Rdq boys will be up for a romp.”

“Hard to say.”

“Donald, girl, do you think I should tell them to go back to Vermont? They aren’t going to be much help, it looks like. But I like having Quentin around to boost my morale. I love that he wanted to lick my feet. At first, I thought, oh, what a weirdo. But he wasn’t referring to shrimping, I don’t think. He meant to show his respect.”

“He admires you a lot. And he’s not alone.”

“Oh, I know. Not everybody’s dumping on me. All the gals out at BJ’s have called and expressed their heartfelt wishes about Mom, and some said I should have kicked Bill O’Malley in the balls. A lot of the gang we normally see at Rocks on Saturday night have been supportive, calling and sending nice cards. I heard that some radio program in Troy called Homo Radio said nice things about me. It’s just phonies like Nelson and Lawn and that type of straight-acting gay person who have been pissing all over Artie and me.”

“I don’t know that they’re all phonies. They just find your uninhibitedness and your…zest for life a little scary.”

“Well, tough titty. Anyway, they are so phonies. I would never tell Nelson — he is so innocent and it would break his heart —

but Artie saw Lawn one time out behind a Thruway rest stop getting his dick sucked by a state assemblyman from Buffalo who had just had his picture in the paper for getting a prize from the Boy Scouts.”

“That sounds complicated. But a lot of guys really are monogamous and very comfortable with the old-fashioned two-people-devoted-to-each-other model. It’s safe and comfortable and emotionally rewarding. Biology being biology, some of them may slip once in a while. But overall they aren’t particularly hypocritical. They live the way they live not just for convention’s sake but for love.”

CoCkeyed 165

“Oh, Donald, darlin’, you obviously haven’t seen what I’ve seen. For a detective, you don’t seem to have been around the block all that much. And anyway, don’t tell me about love. If there’s any love in this world truer than Artie’s and mine, I would be very surprised to see it. We have two brains and two dicks but only one funny soul. Our two hearts beat as one. When one of us croaks, the other one will drop dead in about two seconds.

We share everything from money to boys to sorrows to nacho supremes at Applebee’s. We know so much about love that there ain’t nothin’ that you or Nelson or even Branjolina can teach us on that subject, not one single thing. So when I get criticized for the way I talk or drink or carry on, I don’t like it — it hurts my feelings, it really does — but I know I have love in my life and because of that I know I can stand just about anything.”

I drove home and told Timmy, who was half asleep, about the Rdq guys arriving and about what Hunny had told me about him and Art and their — marriage was the best word for it. Timmy heard what I was saying about Hunny and Art and squeezed my hand. He also said he was truly grateful that I had not brought any Tibetans home to sleep on the floor at the foot of our bed.

ChAPteR twenty-fouR

I was barely awake myself when the phone rang at seven thirty in the morning. It was Card Sanders and his tone was cool.

“I just checked with East Greenbush. There’s no sign yet of Mrs. Van Horn.”

“Jeez. This is really getting worrisome. Has the fbi been brought in yet?”

“No, because there’s no indication of foul play. Huntington’s mother is just an old lady who wandered out the front door of a nursing home. In fact, there’s no indication of anything at all. She just went poof. It’s very odd.”

“That’s what it looks like. But with no corpse having turned up, it sure looks as if somebody picked her up. But who? Family and friends all deny any contact with her, and surely strangers giving her a ride would have seen news reports and alerted the sheriff.”

I was in the kitchen with my juice and muffin, the Times Union spread out on the counter, and Timmy was upstairs performing his before-work extensive toilette.

Sanders said, “I’m still curious about these people the Brienings who Mrs. Van Horn used to work for.”

“How come?”

“For one thing, Mr. Van Horn told me he is considering giving the Brienings half a billion dollars because Clyde Briening is his biological father.”

“It’s a strange, heartbreaking story.”

“Yeah, but more strange than heartbreaking.”

“How so?”

“For one thing, when Hunny Van Horn was born, Clyde Briening was just eight years of age.”

168 Richard Stevenson

“Nah, that couldn’t be.”

“That’s right, Strachey. Fathering a child at that age is pretty close to being biologically impossible. But I checked the ages of both men.”

“It would make it into Ripley’s.”

“I am relieved that Mrs. Van Horn didn’t have an affair with an eight-year-old.”

“You bet.”

“So then what’s the real deal with the Brienings? I’m nagged by Mr. Van Horn’s saying on Bill O’Malley — I’ve TiVoed it five times now — that if his mother’s disappearance had anything to do with the Brienings, not to worry, that he would deal with them.

I’m thinking strongly now that there is a connection, and I’m also thinking strongly that you know exactly what that connection is. No? If I’m mistaken, please explain to me how I’ve failed to grasp the obvious.”

“Look,” I said, meaning it, “if there was a connection, why wouldn’t I tell you and all the other law enforcement folks so that you all could wrap up this whole missing person sad situation pronto? It is possible that the Brienings might have spooked Mrs.

Van Horn in some way and she took off for wherever she took off to. But I have spoken with the Brienings. And believe me, they don’t have Mrs. Van Horn in their custody, and they don’t know where she is. It’s to their advantage that she be safe and in the tender arms of the staff at Golden Gardens so that Clyde and Arletta can go ahead and press Hunny for the half billion.

Having her running around loose and exposed to possible danger is exactly what they do not desire. Don’t you see what I’m saying, Lieutenant?”

“I do see, and it would be really insensitive of me to go out to Cobleskill and question the Brienings if Clyde really was Mr. Van Horn’s father and I stirred up some ugly family mess that’s none of my business or the business of the police in any way. But Mr.

Van Horn was obviously lying when he told me that real-father bullshit story. So why don’t you allay my growing suspicions by CoCkeyed 169

telling me the fucking truth about this family of psychopathic liars for a change?”

I said, “Okay, look. I do know a little more. That must be obvious. But if you knew the truth it would just place you in an ethical bind that you really don’t want to be in. You know people in the department who know me, and they can vouch for me. They can tell you that if I say you’re better off not knowing everything there is to know about the Brienings and the Van Horns, then you can trust that assessment. Just ask.”

Sanders snorted. “Strachey, I’m a police officer, not a third-grader who needs to be kept out of an R-rated movie. Just fucking tell me what’s going on here.”

I said, “I can’t.”

“Why?’

“I’ve explained that. You might be obligated to report something to the DA. In the end, it would all turn out okay for the Van Horns and not so great for the Brienings, I feel confident.

But this has to do with family image and standing with church ladies and small-town embarrassment and shame. The legal part of it is the least of it. Or is according to the Van Horns. And it’s their decision to make.”