The Day the Music Died by Ed Gorman Read Free Book Online Page A

clean DX uniform was using his wrench to point out various things on the undercarriage of a car. I was getting sentimental. Nothing I’d rather do than spend a warm afternoon on my driveway working on my ragtop.
    Lurlene came on and I told her who I was and what had happened.
    “Did he throw up?” she asked.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.”
    “Then he should be all right to drive.”
    “He may be all right technically. But I’ll bet that Sykes still comes after him.” I was sure that Paddy, Sr., had called Chief of Police Sykes, and I was sure that Sykes would be waiting for Darin Greene to get behind the wheel. They’d hit him with several charges, including drunken driving and, for sure, resisting arrest, which would justify the beating they would certainly put on him.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. McCain, it’s just that they don’t like me takin’ time off at the hospital here. They’re real nice and I hate to take advantage. And you know, with Darin not workin’, I’m the only support our family’s got.”
    “All right. I’ll run him home.”
    “That’s very nice of you, Mr. McCain.”
    I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say would disturb her. “Does Darin have a gun?”
    “A gun? He has a hunting rifle. I bought him one at Sears a couple years ago. For his birthday. Jeff, he’s the oldest boy, he’s eight, he’s startin’ to take target practice with it in the Cub Scouts.”
    “How about a handgun?”
    “He’s got that Army .45 his daddy had in the war.”
    That must be the gun he was referring to when I’d gotten into his car.
    “Is he in some kind of trouble?”
    “Not at all,” I said. “He just mentioned it in passing.”
    Another pause. “Is he in trouble, Mr. McCain?”
    “No. He really isn’t, Lurlene.”
    “Would you swear to it on the Lord’s name?”
    “I swear to it on the Lord’s name.”
    “Oh, thank God. I just got so scared there.” She sounded about to cry. “The boys, they’re just always afraid somethin’ bad’s gonna happen to that daddy of theirs.” Now she was crying, not hard, but with the soft, earnest sounds of a good and weary woman. “He ain’t like people say he is, Mr. McCain, not when he’s sober. When he’s sober, he can be the nicest man in the world.”
    When I hung up, I dropped in another nickel and called my dad and asked him if he could meet me out at Darin Greene’s place in about twenty minutes. And that I’d explain later.
    When I went back out to the Olds, Darin was leaning against the front of the car, one heel hooked on the bumper. He had to be cold in his short-sleeved red shirt and tan slacks. He did not look happy.
    When I got close, he held his hand out. “Keys.”
    “I’m driving you home.”
    “Keys, man. Or I’m gonna make you very sorry.”
    I looked at him. He wasn’t a bully, as Kenny had been. But he had a much deeper and meaner anger. He could make me very sorry indeed.
    “Sykes is going to be laying for you.”
    “I don’t give a damn about Sykes right now, man. I just want my keys back.”
    “You want your kids to have to come and visit you in county again?”
    That got to him. Say what you would about him, what he was or wasn’t, he was a man who loved his kids.
    “You son of a bitch.”
    But he got in the car. The passenger’s side.
    When we were going again, he reached under the seat and brought up a pint of rotgut whiskey.
    “You really need that?”
    “You’re pushin’ your luck, man. And that’s no shit.”
    “I take it you heard about Kenny.”
    “’Course I heard about Kenny. Everybody’s heard about Kenny.”
    “I don’t think he killed her.”
    “What’re you talkin’ about, man, of course he killed her.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “If he didn’t kill her, why’d he kill himself, then?”
    “I was hoping maybe you could help me out a little with that one.”
    He glowered at me again. He looked angry, as he often did, but now there was a sense of fear about him, too. I