The Lake

TWENTY

Brrring… Brrring…

Leigh’s fingers felt around the nightstand, then stretched out to reach the telephone. Her grazed elbow twinged. She made a face, squinting at the red numbers on the clock.

11:22.

Christ. Who is this?

At this hour?

She fumbled around some more and clicked on the bedside lamp.

Something’s happened, she thought. They caught Nelson. They’ve…

“Yes?”

“Hi, Leigh. Mace here. Called to see if you’re okay.”

“Uhh… I was asleep, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sorry. Just thought you looked a little wrecked earlier.”

“Well, thanks a lot, Mace. You woke me up to tell me that?”

“No, Leigh. It’s just that I don’t want you worrying yourself over that maniac. Is all.”

“Cheers for that, Mace. But I’m—we’re—okay. Truly. Right now, I need some rest. Took one of those bazookas an hour ago and I’m sleepy as a kittycat.”

“Yeah. Sure. Sorry for the intrusion. You phone me if you have any problems. Or need to talk. Y’hear me, now?”

“Sure, Mace. Sure. G’night.”

Smiling, she put the phone down.

What a jerk! But quite a nice jerk…

She smiled, snapped off the light, turned over, and closed her eyes.

And opened them again.

God, much as I like the guy, I wish he hadn’t called.

’Cause now I’m really awake.

She sighed.

Take another sleeper.

No, don’t.

Doc said only three a day. I’ve taken three already.

She twisted up on an elbow and gasped a little.

Ouch! That hurts.

Making a face, she punched and plumped up her pillow. Then sank back into it.

Mmmm… That’s better.

Gradually, her lids drooped and her breathing evened out.

Brrinng… Brrinng…

GOD! MACE! What now? I’ll swing for that guy. Doesn’t he ever give up?

“Mace?” she yelled into the phone.

“Ms. West.”

Her heart leapt into her mouth. Pounding, hard.

Racing like a traction engine.

“Nelson.” A breathless pause. “What d’you want?”

“You shouldn’t have done it, y’know.”

Mustn’t let him think I’m scared.

“Done what? Whatever did I do to you that wasn’t completely justified? Tell me that!”

She was sitting up now. Shaking. Rocking with terror, her free arm hugging her knees. Almost screaming into the phone.

Deana burst through the door.

“Mom!”

Leigh shook her head.

Put a finger to her lips.

Shush, Deana. Quiet!

She pointed to the extension phone in her hand, then stabbed a forefinger at the open door.

Deana frowned.

Leigh rolled up her eyes.

She mouthed, “Deana. Pick up the other phone!”

Deana raced out of the room.

“I was the best thing you had, lady,” Nelson whimpered. He seemed lost, uncertain, and Leigh relaxed a little. She could handle a pathetic Nelson. “An’ you didn’t know it,” he went on. “You didn’t ’preciate me. Called me an oddball and then FIRED me.” His pace spiced up a little. “ME! The finest chef in the whole of the Bay. I coulda cooked at ’Frisco’s finest, and you know it!”

Let him talk. I can deal with that okay.

Maybe.

“Nelson, calm down.”

Leigh heard a faint click as Deana lifted the phone in the hallway.

“Whass that?” Nelson was suspicious. Twitchy. His tone upped a couple of octaves.

“Just the line, Nelson. I should get it fixed. Been playing up on me for a week or so now.”

“Sure. You do that. Where’s that kid a’ yours?”

“Deana? Oh, she’s spending the night with a friend—”

“You lie!” he shrieked. “The light was on in her room a half hour ago. Don’t you lie to me, Leigh West. Or you’ll both regret it.”

His voice dropped. He spoke slowly, spelling it out: “You’ll both wish you hadn’t. Geddit?”

“Nelson, please. Why would I lie to you?” Leigh knew she was pleading and hated herself for it.

But she’d best play it his way.

Plead. Beg, if she had to. She smiled grimly.

He’d like that.

Christ. He’d been creeping around the house only a half hour ago?

Where the hell was Mace?

On the phone. Asking me if I was okay. Jesus, Mace. You shoulda been out there protecting us!

No. That’s not fair. Mace has to go off duty some time. Not his fault.

“You still there, Leigh?” The voice was low. Derisive. Mocking. Like he knew he had her in the palm of his hand. Running scared.

Her heart started to pound again.

She was panicking; couldn’t control the way her breath came out, all huffy and shallow.

She turned away from the phone, hoping he couldn’t hear her quick, uneven breathing.

Please God. Don’t let him hear me.

For a split second, she paused, steadying herself.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m still here, Nelson.”

“Y’know, you said some pretty hurtful things back there, Leigh. An’ all I ever wanted was recognition for my work. I deserved better. I know I’m not much to look at, but I’m an artiste in my own right. My creations made the Bayview the place it is… And my beef Willington’s a masterpiece.” He choked out a sob. “Everybody says so…”

Leigh calmed down a little. Nelson wasn’t angry, spiteful, or threatening anymore. Just downright pitiful.

“You knew my worth,” he went on. “You knew how good I was.”

Leigh listened to his pathetic whining. Not quite sure how to handle it now. Thinking that this entire conversation could go horribly wrong; change into something bad…

Mustn’t offend him, she thought.

Play him like a fish.

Placate him.

Let him spit it out. Whatever it was he had to say.

“All I wanted was to hit back at you.” His voice wavered. Leigh was finding it difficult to hear him now.

“…An’ make you worry like crazy. So the way I figured, I should follow your girl and scare the shit outa her…”

His sobs were noisy, heaving gulps, vibrating over the line.

She moved the phone away from her ear. When she listened from that distance, Nelson’s voice made thin, tinny sounds; ineffectual squawks coming from a long way off.

He was crying, too.

“Nelson. Don’t go on so.”

She heard Deana’s gasp of horror.

Jesus. Quiet, hon. There’s my girl…

“I didn’t mean that boyfriend of hers should get killed. I didn’t want for that terrible accident to happen. I was so riled up, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry…”

Listening to him groveling, Leigh grew more sure of herself. “Nelson,” she said. “What you did was really bad. You killed that young man. You deprived him of a fine future. But if you’re as sorry as you say you are, all you have to do is give yourself up. You’ll have a fair trial, Nelson. Believe me.”

Sure. All things considered.

A fair trial.

The guy’s a maniac. Not a pervert.

Not an obssessive killer at all.

What he needs is a straitjacket. Not the chair.

Her thoughts flew back to Deana.

Hope she has the sense to call Mace on my cell phone…

“Nelson, where are you? I mean, are you close by?”

Hope to God he’s not outside the house.

Could be.

She heard a wet, gasping sob.

“Christ, Nelson. Where are you?”

Deana, use my phone, for godsake.

Call Mace.

“Just wanted to get it off my chest… how all of this happened. So you know it was your fault. You coulda told me you didn’t want me for a partner. Not just fired me…” The whining tapered off. Then:

“Coulda lived with not bein’ a partner.”

A long pause.

“I been feelin’ real tuckered out lately. I worry about my work an’ all…” Nelson sounded beat now. “Anyways. I won’t be botherin’ you no more, Ms. West. You’ll be fuckin’ rid of me for good! But I hope you’ll remember, as long as you’ve breath left in your body, that you brought it on your own fuckin’ self—”

“NELSON! What d’you mean? I’ll be rid of you…”

Silence. Then:

“Ah’m goin’ away, Ms. West. Forever. You’ll not hear from me again.”

“Nelson.”

Say something. Anything. Just keep him talking.

“Was it you who returned my necklace? You took it, didn’t you? From the restaurant?”

Nelson wasn’t listening.

The phone fell from his grasp. It dangled, swinging to and fro on its connection cord. Fascinated by the pendulum-like movements, he watched it for a moment, his toothless mouth making a small black O.

Somewhere deep inside his mashed-up brain, a smile began. A grimace of triumph that tried but didn’t quite make it to his tear-streaked face.

He’d told her, all right.

He’d told that high-handed bitch what for.

Spittle swung from Nelson’s chin. Snot dribbled into his mouth. His tongue came up and licked it away. The stuff tasted good and sweet.

Lurching away from the pay phone, he crossed the sidewalk and teetered along the edge, his arms outstretched for balance.

Cars came at him from nowhere.

Like bats out of hell.

As he squinted in the glaring headlights, his face lifted to meet the cool night breeze.

It felt all right.

Clean.

He was a boy again. Out on one of them lakes beyond Point Reyes Station. Fishing with his pa. Taking in great gulps of fresh, clean air. Hearing the squawk of Pa’s oars in the oarlocks, the slap of wood on water, making ripples and waves dance around their smart new rowboat.

And the fish he brought home.

Yes-siree Bob! Ma sure knew how to cook her boy’s fish.

Tender as a baby’s smile, they fell to pieces soon as look at ’em.

Fog shrouded the far end of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Nelson grinned and walked toward it.