S Is for Silence

gave her was sweet. “Hello, Sweet Pea.”
    “Hello, Dad. Could we go outside and talk? I need some fresh air, don’t you?”
    “Nothing to talk about. That car was the final tie.” He made a slicing motion with his hand. “Severed. Just like that. She knew it’d cut me to the core if it ever came to light.”
    “If what came to light?”
    “The car. She buried it before she left. I paid and I paid because I loved her and thought she’d be back. Dear god, I wanted her to know she didn’t owe me anything.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    He focused on her face. “They found her Bel Air. I thought you knew.”
    “Of course, I knew. The sheriff’s office called me this afternoon.”
    “Well then, fair enough. We have to accept the fact. Your mother laid it in the ground and then she went off. We have to make our peace with her abandonment.”
    “She didn’t bury it. You can’t believe that. How could she manage?”
    “Obviously, she had help. Fella she ran off with must have helped dig the hole.”
    “That doesn’t make sense. If she was running off, why wouldn’t she take the car with her? If she had no use for it, she could have sold it.”
    “It was her way of taunting me. The car was my final gift to her and she rejected it.”
    “Dad, please stop. You know what’s going on. There’s a good possibility she’s buried down there. That’s why they’re taking their time, so they won’t destroy evidence.”
    He shook his head, his mouth pulled down as though he regretted having to deliver the news. He wasn’t slurring his words, but his brain was operating at half speed and his concentration was, of necessity, intense. He thumped his chest. “She’s not dead. I’d feel it here if she were.”
    “I’m not going to argue with you. Can we just get out of here?”
    “Sweet Pea, you’re not responsible for the state I’m in. I’m doing this in deference to your mother with whom I drank for many years. This is my farewell. I’m giving up all claim. Violet Sullivan is free.” He gestured with his whiskey, toasting his wife before he drank it down.
    I wasn’t sure where his grandiosity was coming from and I couldn’t judge his mood. He seemed dangerous—testy and unpredictable despite the formality of his speech. Daisy shot me a look. Our unspoken pact was to sweet-talk him out of there before he blew. I put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close.
    When he realized who I was, he rared back slightly. “So she’s got you here, too.”
    “We’re both concerned. It’s late and we thought you might like to finish your drinking at home.”
    His gaze was out of focus, giving him a cross-eyed look. “I don’t have whiskey at home. Pastor would disapprove. I live in a church cell that’s fit for a monk.”
    “Why don’t we go to Daisy’s? We can take you out for breakfast and then we’ll stop by her place or we’ll drop you at home.”
    “You’ve never attended an Al-Anon meeting, have you?”
    “I haven’t. That’s correct.”
    “This is not your job. It has nothing to do with you. I don’t need to be rescued. I don’t need to be saved. I want to sit and enjoy myself so leave me be. I absolve you of any responsibility.” He waved a hand, airily, absolving me.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw BW approaching, and I remember thinking, thank god. He’d had years of experience dealing with Foley drunk. Though both hands were empty, he was clearly in bouncer mode. Jake Ottweiler was two paces behind him.
    BW said, “Foley, I want you out of here right now.”
    Foley’s eyes jerked from BW to Jake and that’s all it took. Foley’s demons spilled out, though he smiled as he spewed. “There’s the man who fucked my wife.”
    “Dad. Please lower your voice.”
    Jake had stopped in his tracks. Foley eased off his stool and steadied himself. BW moved swiftly and locked his arms around Foley’s so he couldn’t move. Foley raised his voice to a shrieking pitch. “You son of a bitch. Admit it! You used my wife and then you cast her aside like she was common as dirt. You never even had the decency to own up to it.”
    “That’s it,” BW said. He lifted Foley and force-marched him through the bar. “You ever set a foot in here again and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. I’m warning you.”
    In BW’s grip, Foley’s feet scarcely touched the floor. He looked like a ballerina, up on his toes, taking light, dainty steps with remarkable speed and grace.