Legs by William Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

finding out. And every goddamn one of them can handle
beer. Will handle beer."
    "Who's servicing them now?"
    "What's the difference'?"
    "I don't know what the difference is, except
competition."
    "We'll solve that," Jack said. "Come
on, let's have some champagne."
    Pistol, who had followed us out of the woods and
along the road, pounced on a mole that made the mistake of coming out
of his tunnel. The cat took him to the back steps and played with him
alongside the carcass of the squirrel, who had died of wounds. Or
perhaps Pistol had finished him off when he decided to take a walk
with us. He let the mole run away a little, just as he'd let the
squirrel, then he pounced.
    'We were hardly inside the house when Alice called
out to Jack, "Will you come here please?" She was on the
front porch, with Oxie and Fogarty still on the sofa. They were not
moving, not speaking, not looking at Alice or at Jack or at me either
when we got there. They both stared out toward the road.
    Alice opened the canary cage and said to Jack, "Which
one do you call Marion'?"
    Jack quickly turned to Fogarty and Oxie.
    "Don't look at them, they didn't tell me,"
Alice said. "I just heard them talking. Is it the one with the
black spot on its head ?"
    Jack didn't answer, didn't move. Alice grabbed the
bird with the black spot and held it in her fist.
    "You don't have to tell me—the black spot's
for her black hair. Isn't it? Isn't it?"
    When Jack said nothing, Alice wrung the bird's neck
and threw it back in the cage. "That's how much I love you,"
she said and started past Jack, toward the living room, but he
grabbed her and pulled her back. He reached for the second bird and
squeezed it to death with one hand, then shoved the twitching,
eyebleeding corpse down the crevice of Alice's breasts. "I love
you too," he said.
    That solved everything for
the canaries.
    * * *
    We left the house immediately, with a "Come on,
Marcus" the only words Jack said. Fogarty followed him
wordlessly, like Pistol. "Haines Falls," Jack said in a
flat hostile voice.
    Fogarty leaned over the seat to tell Jack, "'We
didn't know she was listening or we . . ."
    "Shut your fucking mouth."
    We drove a few miles in silence, and then Jack said
in as tone that eliminated the canary episode from history, "I'm
going to Europe. Ever been to Europe?"
    "I was there with the AEF," I said. "But
it was a Cook's Tour. I was in a headquarters company in Paris. Army
law clerk."
    "I was in Paris. I went AWOL to see it."
    "Smart move."
    "When they caught up with me, they sent me back
to the States. But that was a long time ago. I mean lately. You been
to Europe lately?"
    "No, that was the one and only."
    "Fantastic place, Europe. Fantastic. I'd go all
the time if I could. I like Heidelberg. If you go to Heidelberg, you
got to eat at the castle. I like London, too. A polite town. Got
class. You want to go to Europe with me, Marcus?"
    "Me go to Europe? When? For how long?"
    "What the hell's the difference? Those are old
lady questions. We go and we come back when we feel like it. I do a
little business and we have ourselves some fun. Paris is big fun, I
mean big fun."
    "What about your business here? All those
hotels. All those speakeasies."
    "Yeah, well, somebody'll look after it. And it
won't be all that long of a trip. Goddamn it, a man needs change. We
get old fast. I'm an old son of a bitch, I feel old, I could die any
time. I almost died twice already, really close. So goddamn stupid to
die when there's so many other things to do. Jesus, I learned that a
long time ago; I learned it in Paris from an old crone—old Algerian
chambermaid with her fingers all turned into claws and her back
crooked and every goddamn step she took full of needles. Pain. Pain
she wanted to scream about but didn't. Tough old baby. I think she
was a whore when she was young, and me and Buster Deegan from
Cleveland, we went AWOL together to see Paris before they shot us in
some muddy fucking trench, and we wind up talking