Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

isn’t it, and you’re in deep shit. One of us at a time, okay?”
    I felt the need to speak but I had to leave, and it was as simple as that. It seemed now that everything I did to keep out of their path only served to put me right there in the middle of it. There was no avoiding it, no avoiding having to pay for what I had done.
    I walked quickly through the cold air to my car, cutting around the body on the grass. I took an old blanket from my back seat and lay it on the front seat to keep from leaving a bloodstain. I untied my boots and took them off and lay them on the other half of the blanket on the passenger seat, then cranked the ignition, shifted into gear, and made a U-turn, heading back down Little Neck Road, toward Montauk Highway.
    Augie’s house was on a peninsula that jutted briefly out into the Shinnecock Bay. There was only one way in and out of his neighborhood. When I was near the end of Little Neck Road I heard the first siren in the distance. It was closing fast. I killed my lights and swung my LeMans into the nearest driveway. A patrol car swerved around the corner onto Little Neck Road and sped past me. Less than a minute later another followed. There was a third siren lagging behind. I knew by the sound of it that it was the ambulance. I waited till it made the corner before I shifted in reverse and backed fast out of the driveway.
    When I paused on the street to shift into drive I took a quick look at the house in whose driveway I had parked and saw someone watching me from between the curtains of the front bay window. I could see no face, just the shape of head framed by dim back light. I started my car forward and flipped on my headlights. The head remained there, turning to follow me as I rode through the stop sign and turned right onto Montauk.
    In town I stopped at a pay phone on Job’s Lane and called Lizzie’s house yet again. It was past four in the morning but she sounded awake when she answered her extension. I told her I needed to speak to Tina and she put her on.
    “Meet me out front in two minutes,” I said.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Just meet me.”
    I hung up and got back into my car and drove to where Lizzie lived. Tina was waiting by the curb when I pulled up. She was wearing her pea coat and wool hat, her hands deep in her jeans pockets. I had her sit in the back to keep her from the blood and drove her to the Hansom House. I parked in the spot I had vacated not a half hour ago and killed the motor and lights. I took a good look around but saw no one. The house was still, the street empty.
    Inside I turned on the living room light -- it was a weak bulb -- and Tina saw all the blood on me and started asking me what had happened. I told her as I took a duffel bag from my closet and removed Augie’s field jacket and stuffed it inside that someone had tried to break into their house and that Augie had shot a man.
    She stood there in the middle of the room and stared at me without moving. Her hands hung past the middle of her thigh. I assured her that Augie was okay, that I was just with him and that he seemed fine. Then I told her there were some precautions that I had to take for both Augie’s sake and mine and that she couldn’t ask any more questions.
    I took off my shirt and socks and stuffed them into the bag, then went into the bathroom and scrubbed the blood from my hands, digging out with the tip of a scissors blade the residue that had gotten caught under my nails. I dried my hands on a ratty hand towel I kept under the sink and threw that into the duffel bag. From there I went into the bedroom and removed my jeans and stuffed them in.
    Tina was standing just outside my door, watching me. I don’t think she realized what she was doing. She was still in shock. But there was nothing I could do about that now. I put on a clean pair of jeans, a wool sweater and socks, then pulled a pair of old sneakers out from under my bed and put them on. I moved past Tina and through the living room to the kitchen, got a spray bottle full of window cleaner and some paper towels from under the sink, then grabbed my denim jacket and put it on.
    I looked at Tina. She was still standing outside my bedroom doorway, but she had turned and was facing me. I was at one end of the living room and she was at the other, just like before.
    “You stay here,” I told her. “Don’t answer the door or phone. If I need to call, I’ll let it ring twice, then hang up and call back. Got