Hairl lost his momentum. His voice broke and the pink notepaper shook in his trembling hand. He sobbed once and then gathered him self again. “If I had the strength, I would choke the life out of you. My beautiful girl. She’s the soul of goodness and what of you, sir? You are low-down, stinking trash. You’ve made her an object of pity in this town, and she’ll go to her grave looking like a fool, but there’s worse in store for you. I can promise you that.”

Jake’s mind went blank. He was speechless with horror. What had she done? What in god’s name had Violet Sullivan gone and done?

22

The three of us drove to Daisy’s in separate cars, like a very short motorcade. Having warned them, I peeled off at Broadway and made a stop at JC Penney, where I bought a cotton nightie, two T-shirts, and cheap underwear. I made a second stop at a nearby drugstore and bought three paperback novels, shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant, figuring if I was in town for any length of time I might as well smell good. Even if the Bel Air was magically unearthed and I went home the next day, the purchases would be useful. It’s not like the underpants were stamped with a sell-by date.

I reached Daisy’s house at 8:00, when the autumn dark had fully settled and the streetlights had come on. She’d left the garage door open, so I pulled my car in, locked it, and triggered the automatic-door device as I emerged. Once in the house, I found Tannie stretched out on the living room floor, trying to get the kinks out of her back after a morning of hacking brush and an afternoon watching cops dig a car out of her lawn. Daisy was in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of tea. She’d changed out of her work clothes and into her sweats, but she looked just as stressed as she had at the site. Her face had the pinched look of someone in the throes of a migraine, though she claimed she was fine. The discovery of the car had generated tension in each of us, but our remedies were different. Daisy longed for a bath and Tannie wanted a drink. For my part, I’d have given anything to be by myself, an impossible desire as things currently stood. I couldn’t even take to my bed because Daisy’d brought her cup of tea into the living room and now sat on the couch, where I would ultimately sleep. From the floor, Tannie said, “Hey, gang. I don’t remember eating dinner, unless I missed an episode. Is anybody else hungry? I’m about to eat my own arm.”

After a brief negotiation, Daisy picked up the phone and ordered a large pizza, which was delivered thirty minutes later. We ate with enthusiasm, though Tannie declined any portion of the pizza that butted up against the anchovies Daisy and I had voted for. Just when I assumed we were done for the day, free to read or watch mindless TV, the telephone rang. Daisy picked up. “Oh, hi, BW. What’s up?”

As she listened I watched her expression change. The color rose in her cheeks as though controlled by a dimmer switch. “How did that happen?” She closed her eyes, shaking her head at the nature of his response. “I see. No, no. It’s not your fault. I understand. I’ll be right there.”

She hung up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My father’s over at the Blue Moon and he’s drunk on his ass. BW wants me to get him out of there before a fight breaks out.”

“Foley’s drunk?”

“That’s what he says. I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you two stay here?”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll go. You can’t manage by yourself if he’s that far gone.”

Daisy turned to Tannie. “What about you? It’s entirely optional.”

“Count me out. I’ll go if you need me, but I’m beat. I gotta get up early and hit the road. We get over to the Moon, I’ll end up having a drink and that’ll be it. I’m tempted, but trying to behave myself.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be back as soon as we figure out what to do with him.”

Daisy found her purse and car keys. She said she’d be warm enough in her sweats, but she found a spare jacket for me. The evening was already chilly, and neither of us was sure how long we’d be out. On the fifteen-mile drive from Santa Maria to Serena Station, she kept shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. He’s been sober for thirty-four years and here we go again.”

“He must have heard about the car.”

“That’s what BW said.”

“But why would that set him off?”

“Beats the hell out of me. I don’t even want to speculate.”

The Blue Moon that Friday night was jammed. Happy hour had ended at 7:00, but the drinking sailed right on. The energy level seemed manic, bespeaking much joy that the work week was done. This time the place did smell of beer and cigarette smoke. Between the loud talk, the jukebox, and alcohol-amped laughter, the noise was overwhelming.