Nobody's Fool

rotating in his chair to acknowledge Ralph, who, when he saw a bare-chested woman seated at the poker table, had also taken an involuntary step backward, followed by several more voluntary ones, so that he was now almost back out through the door and into the bar again. “We’re almost done here,” Sully said, gathering his grandson to him. “This is the last hand. These people have already lost their shirts.”
    â€œHow about closing that door?” Carl Roebuck said, indicating the one Ralph and the boy had just entered through. “I’m feeling a little naked here.”
    â€œThis is the asshole that stole your snowblower,” Sully explained by way of introducing Carl Roebuck, whose jaw had swollen monstrously in the hours since Sully had punched him off his bar stool.
    Carl, as it became apparent when he stood, was not only feeling a little naked, he was literally naked except for his socks. When he stood and went over to shake Ralph’s hand, the latter looked for a moment like he might bolt. “I’ll give it back to you,” Carl promised, “as soon as your son returns my wife.”
    â€œHe’s my son,” Sully reminded Carl when he returned to the table. “No son of Ralph’s would do such a thing, would he, Ralph?”
    Ralph did not understand any of this. Not the naked people. Not the pile of clothes in the center of the table. Not the revolver. Not the prosthetic limb. Certainly not the apparent reference to Peter. It was as if he’d stumbled into a poetry reading. He’d been on the lookout for poetry readings since Peter had described the way they worked, and he half expected someone to start reciting a rhyme or two now. Either all of this was crazy or all these people were drunk or that pill that Sully had given him during the noon hour, which had made him feel like a visitor from another planet, was releasing another spurt of medication.
    â€œDon’t worry about the snowblower,” Sully said, returning his attention to his hole cards. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where he’s hid it.”
    Ollie Quinn, who’d been sleeping with his head back and mouthopen, snorted awake when Carl sat back down at the table. The chief of police rubbed his eyes. “How come she’s naked?” he said, noticing the girl. Sully had tossed her Carl Roebuck’s shirt when Ralph and his grandson entered, and she was slipping it on over her head.
    â€œWhat do you mean, how come
she’s
naked?” Carl Roebuck said.
    Ollie started. “Jesus,” he said. “So are you.”
    â€œWhy the hell not?” Carl said. “Why not let this be the day I lose everything, right down to my shorts?”
    This was in reference to the Ultimate Escape deal having gone south, as Carl had known it would, and to Clive Jr., the putz, the man everybody in Bath wanted answers from, having gone off on vacation to the Bahamas. Some people were whispering that he hadn’t gone to the Bahamas, he’d just gone.
    â€œYou fell asleep during my horse story,” Carl told the police chief. “Now that you’re awake again, I can finish it.”
    â€œGo back to sleep,” Sully suggested to Ollie Quinn. “Nobody wants to hear him tell hard luck stories.”
    â€œTen lengths,” Carl Roebuck said, starting in where he’d left off. “He had a lead of ten fucking lengths coming into the far turn.”
    Ollie Quinn seemed immediately engrossed in the story.
    â€œGuess what happened,” Carl insisted.
    â€œHe was shot by a sniper in the grandstand,” Sully guessed.
    Carl, who had been about to continue, glared at Sully.
    â€œLet me make this long story short,” Sully said. “Carl’s horse was outrun down the stretch, and he doesn’t think things like that should happen to him. They usually don’t either.”
    Carl turned back to Ollie Quinn with the air of a reporter who’s just learned he’s been scooped. “
Ten lengths
he gave up in the last two hundred yards,” he told the police chief.
    Ollie Quinn looked disappointed, like he was still waiting for the end of the story or as if he’d preferred Sully’s version with the sniper.
    â€œWouldn’t you swear he’d never seen a horse race before,” Sully said. “He can’t stand it when his luck doesn’t hold, even for a minute.”
    â€œIt’s not enough