

Billy Palmer

Published by Ron Zastre at Smashwords

Copyright 2002 Ron Zastre

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Prelude

Vietnam was a frustrating experience for America. She got herself into a far off war that ate up her young men and woman for no apparent gains or motive. Sick of the carnage, Americans went looking for a scapegoat, and in many cases the same soldiers that were fighting and dying were singled out.

Chapter 1

Low dark clouds raced across the sky driven by a bone chilling wind, accentuating the cold dreary day. The raw wind moaned through the branches of the bare trees, tumbling the last of the fallen leaves along the ground. With its lonesome call, a crow hidden among the big trees in the back of the old cemetery added to the somber mood. Toward the front, a small gathering of people stood around an open grave, the cold wind pulling at their warm clothing. The crow's persistent calling caught the attention of one of the group, a fiftyish looking man in a long gray overcoat, his head bare. He turned his head in the direction of the bird's call looking deep into the gloomy, old graveyard.

I'm glad this isn't way back there, his thought paused, it's depressing enough out here.

He looked up to the sky and sighed.

Winter's coming, I can smell the snow. He just barely registered what the minister was saying, something about 'ashes to dust.'

Jesus, what a hell of a place to end up. We goofed around in here for years, and now he's going to be here forever. The man shuddered at the irony.

The parson closed the book and nodded to the two men standing back from the official proceedings. Shovels in their hands, they moved forward to the open grave, as the cleric turned and walked away. The two men began shoveling dirt into the grave. The sound of the dirt hitting the casket made the man in the overcoat turn from the sound of the crow and stare at the open grave. The man shuddered again and pulled his arms tight to his side, trying to keep the cold dreariness away from his body. There was a pretty blond woman at his side, her arm through his. She leaned closer and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up into his face,

"Honey, it's cold, let's go," the woman said.

The man was silent, a tear forming at the corner of one of his eyes.

"Honey," the woman said again, "I'm getting really cold." She pulled tighter to the man and shivered.

The man slowly looked down to her and spoke. "What happened here? Why did it end this way?"

"Manny, let it go. He just didn't fit in," the woman said.

"Why? Something cause that? What happened?" Manny said his voice choking. "I remember when we were kids; we were all such good friends."

"Stop it!" the woman interrupted.

"Cassey, don't you see? We were a part of this." Manny pointed to the grave.

"I don't see anything, except we're standing out in the freezing cold, and you're trying to find someone to blame for Billy being dead," Cassey said annoyed, "and you know what? It had nothing to do with either of us. Billy had the opportunities and he didn't take them. If it's anyone's fault, it's his, so don't even think of trying to hang it on me."

"I'm sure he loved you all his life. He never forgot losing you."

"For christ sakes Manny, that was years ago. We were kids. You and I have been together a hell of a lot longer, worked through many issues, and made a family. Billy and I had a relationship that was based on the back seat of an old car."

"Why didn't he ever find someone else then?"

"I don't know!" Cassey's raised voice caused the Minister to turn and look, but the two men filling the grave didn't, like this sort of thing accompanied all burials.

"Maybe he did, and we just never knew about it," she added quietly.

"Doesn't it seem strange to you?" Manny asked. "When we were kids, we were such an important part of each other's lives. Now, all of a sudden, we're standing here and thirty years has gone by, and we know nothing about Billy or who he became."

"Look, he was the one that left to go to that silly, fucked-up war. He left, and I turned to you. To you Manny. Yeah, I loved him, and to tell you the truth I didn't like seeing him lowered into the ground just now because he never did anything bad to me, he just left. I went on with my life, and he went on with his. It's not my fault that his didn't turn out so hot."

"Whose fault was it? That's what I can't get out of my mind," Manny said with great sadness surrounding his person. Manny was a handsome man, distinguish looking, well dressed, but the sad look on his face made him look old, beaten.

"Christ, I've never seen you look like this before. What is wrong with you?" Cassey asked concerned, looking into Manny's eyes. "You've been to funerals before; don't let this one get to you."

"I've never felt responsible before. Death happens, but I can't get over feeling it was my fault this time, somehow?"

"Why does it have to be anyone's fault?" Cassey returned. "Life is life, and now he's dead, that's it, boo who!

"Boo who, that's all you can come up with? That's your rational; something happened to Billy? I don't know if it was the war, or after, but he wasn't the same?"

"It was probably all the drugs," Cassey countered. "Shit, those guys pickled their brains. Not that I blame them. It was screwed up, and they knew it. I probably would have done the same thing, you too by the way."

"He wasn't messed up on drugs. How can you say that? When he got back, we had the pot. Billy said he heard about it over there, but never tried it. Shit, the first time he ever smoked any was with Art Jensen and me. I'm fairly sure that the drug thing in Vietnam was after Billy's time."

"I don't know Manny because I didn't have much to do with Billy after he came back, remember? I was with you. You were the one that didn't want me associating with him. You were jealous, and if anybody was responsible for him feeling left out, it was you. You were the one that shunned him, you and his old buddies. He goes to war, you guys don't. He comes back and you guys treat him like he doesn't belong anymore, and you've got the nerve to point the finger at me."

"We were wrong, terribly wrong, and I'm just starting to realize it. I think he was a hero in that war," Manny countered.

"Hard to tell, I never heard much about what he did, or what happened," Cassey said.

Manny turned and looked again to the rear of the old cemetery, wondering why the crow had quit calling. He saw the rows of tombstones marching beneath the trees that got progressively older and larger as they recede into the gloomy depths, and felt a terrible sadness.

"He never said much, I don't think anyone ever knew."

"His brother said he was a sniper or something like that," Cassey said quietly.

Manny made a sound of disgust. "The golden haired boy, notice he's not here today."

"They moved a long time ago, maybe they don't know?"

"The family is always notified," Manny said. "They never really cared one way or the other. I guess Billy was the black sheep. I never told you about the time he saved me out hunting, did I? Billy saved my life."

"Billy saved you, when was this?" Cassey looked up into Manny's face, concerned.

Manny started laughing. "Billy saved me from a deranged rabbit."

"Oh come on?" Cassey exclaimed, a look of doubt on her face. "Ever since you've gone gaga over this guilt thing you don't make much sense. How could a rabbit hurt you?"

"We were hunting rabbits in that old black pickup we used to fool around in. Billy was driving and I was in the back. We put sand in the bed so we could get footing and then chase jack rabbits. One guy would drive and everybody else would stand in the bed and shoot. One night it was just Billy and me, and he was driving. I wounded this rabbit, and when we stopped, it ran under the truck. I jumped out and was looking under the truck, and the damn thing came out after me, hissing and hopping on its hind legs right at me. I tried to shoot it, but the gun was empty. I panicked and threw the gun at the rabbit and took off running with the damn thing after me."

"The rabbit chased you?" Cassey chuckled. "You ran from a rabbit? How courageous."

"Damn right, it was wounded and really pissed. I told you, it was hissing at me. I'd never heard anything like that before and it scared the shit out of me. I was running and the damn thing was right on my heels."

"A killer rabbit huh? Geez Manny, you come up with some good ones, you really do; I'll give you credit for that."

"I'm not shitting you Cassey, that thing was hopping on its hind legs, hissing and right on my ass. I can remember thinking, 'feet don't fail me now'. I was running and dogging like hell with that crazy rabbit right on my butt. Anyway, Billy ran after us and shot the rabbit on the dead run with my bow. I pissed my pants from laughing."

"You sure you didn't piss them from being scared? You're not kidding me about this?"

"Probably that too, but it really happened. I'm not pulling your leg."

"A rabbit couldn't hurt you," Cassey snickered.

"I wasn't so sure at the time. That thing could have bit the shit out of me if Billy hadn't shot it."

"He saved you from a killer rabbit and that makes him a hero?"

"He reacted immediately!" Manny exclaimed. "How do you know, it could have been rabid or something? It was just the way Billy was. He was always there when you really needed him, wasn't he?"

"No, he wasn't!"

"What do you mean?"

"I needed him, and he wandered off to some silly war, and I ended up falling in love with you while he was gone"

"I've never heard you say that before. You went with me to get even with him for leaving you?"

"Not to get even. I was lonely and you were persistent."

"I was second best?"

"We were kids back then, remember. I've given all my best to you. We are what is important, not some guy way back, whenever."

"But, don't you see? He was important to you, as I'm sure you were to him and he lost that," Manny lamented.

"If I was so goddamn important he would have stayed with me, but he went off to the great adventure. Come on, it's getting cold, we can talk about this in the car."

*

Manny and Cassey walked back toward the car.

"Why are you so intense about all this now?" Cassey asked.

"Donny," Manny responded.

Cassey stopped and held Manny tighter. "Do you think they'll send him somewhere dangerous?"

"I don't know? I hope not. I don't want the same thing to happen to him."

"Oh Manny, don't even say that," Cassey said with a shudder. "The country learned its lesson and is different now. I pray our son is not expendable, like those guys in Vietnam were."

"It's funny you should say that. I mean, Billy did his duty and got nothing for it. So now we hope that can't happen again; because we have a son that might be doing the same thing. Does Billy's life mean any less, or are we overlooking the fact that what happened to those Vietnam guys did teach us a lesson and we are just now realizing it because now we have something to lose? What about what they lost?" Manny asked.

"It was a long time ago and there's nothing you can do about it now," Cassey said.

"But maybe it was my fault."

"Manny, for Christ sakes, you had nothing to do with his messed up life."

"But I think I did," Manny moaned, stopping, turning Cassey, making her look at him.

"How is any of this your fault?" she asked.

"Andy McPherson and Bueler," Manny said, a tone of disgust in his voice.

"How do those two bozos figure into this?"

"The fight, the one that got Billy put in jail for six months."

"He beat the hell out of Bueler, he deserved it."

"It was all a lie Cassey," Manny said quietly, his head down. "They're the ones that started the whole thing. That goddamn Andy was jealous of Billy. Andy was fighting the draft and Billy was all done with that shit. Billy was back and those guys were scared shitless about going."

"You never told me this Manny. You mean Billy got sent to jail, and it wasn't his fault?" Cassey asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we were out drinking beer and Vietnam came up. Andy was ragging on Billy for some war stories, but Billy wouldn't say anything about it. Andy started popping off about Billy not saying anything, saying he was a coward; didn't do anything in the war and all that. Anyway, Andy said that he wasn't afraid, that he'd go and kick some gook ass. Billy kind of laughed and told him that he would never make it, that he didn't have what it took to stay alive. Andy got real pissed and Billy tried to calm him down. Billy said that it was all bullshit and that anyone that went was stupid, because the war was all political and had nothing to do with fighting communism, and to stay the hell away from it. Andy was drunk and wouldn't shut up. Anyway you know that dumb fuck Bueler, he'd do anything to impress Andy, so he blindsided Billy and that's how it started. Billy didn't have the club, Bueler did."

"Oh shit Manny, why didn't you say something?" Cassey asked, grabbing Manny's arm and stopping him.

"I, I didn't think it was that serious. Christ, it was over in a second and Bueler wasn't hurt that bad, just a seriously screwed up nose bleed. Andy wouldn't let it go, and next thing we know we're talking to the sheriff and that rube was always trying to impress Andy's dad. When it got to court, I was afraid to speak up because I didn't want to lose my job. Andy told me if I told the truth his dad would fire me.

"I heard the trial was kind of nasty? I'm glad I didn't go," Cassey said.

"I'm glad you didn't either. It was a railroad. That fuckin lawyer, the prosecutor, really pulled some nasty shit on Billy. He made Billy admit to killing people and all that. Old man McPherson sat there with a smug grin on his face eating it up. He told me that nobody messes with a McPherson and gets away with it. Money talks."

"Billy had a lawyer," added Cassey.

"Andrews? That shit for brains! He was sucking up to the McPhersons, still is. He knows where his bread is buttered. I can't remember it that well, but I know that he didn't do much lawyering for Billy, kind of left him out to dry. I think that was the point of no return for Billy. I didn't see him much after that, after he got out. He didn't smile anymore, and was so elusive and then he just disappeared."

"That must have been the shits, sitting in jail for something he didn't do?" Cassey said, sadly. "I never did like Andy or Bueler." Cassey looked at Manny. "So what are you going to do?"

"Find out about Billy."

"Oh shit Manny, what the hell is there to find? So he might have got dumped on, so what?"

"We're so intent on glorifying our present heroes, a firefighter stubs his toe and the next morning he's on the Today Show. Don't get me wrong, we need to give credit where credit is due, but we might owe some of those guys like Billy."

"It's not going to do Billy a hell of a lot of good now."

"I know, but this is something I feel like I need to do."

"What if you find something that doesn't make Billy look too good? You could make it worse you know," Cassey said.

"I know that he was a great guy before he went to war. If there is anything bad, it would have to be after, and I want to know why?" Manny stated.

"How do you propose doing all this?"

"The business runs itself, and I need to find something else to do. I've got good people and I've been thinking of taking some time off for quite a while now. I've never seen much of the country, like I promised myself, and here's a good excuse to do it."

"Sounds like a mid-life crisis to me."

"Aren't all men supposed to have them?"

"Apparently!"

"Well, don't you think this is better than trying a younger woman?"

"A younger woman would be an 'end' of life crisis, Mr!"

"See, I'm doing the right thing," Manny said, as he opened the passenger car door for Cassey.

*

"Shit, I hate this place when it starts this crap," Manny said, looking out the front windshield, as it started to snow. "Especially this early," he gloomily added as they drove though the large stone and iron gates, leaving the cemetery.

"Can't take another winter, huh? Of course, I hear the same gripe year after year, just about this time."

"I cannot figure out what you like about winter?" Manny commented, looking over at Cassey with a disgusted look on his face.

"It's peaceful, laid back, Manny. It smells so clean. If you would just learn to enjoy the solitude."

"You got that right, nothing to do and nowhere to go, solitary confinement." Manny moved forward in his seat, resting his arms and chin on the steering wheel, peering over, looking intently out through the windshield. "Look at that, it's getting heavier."

"Oh, chill out! Just think the seasons are coming. Turkey Day, Christmas, your birthday," Cassey chuckled.

"Had to spoil it didn't you."

"Can't do much about getting older."

"It's not the getting older part. It's just such a lousy time of the year to have to celebrate anything."

"Tell you what sport, we can switch. You can have 'my' birthday. How does that make you feel?"

"Actually, better."

"Good, because I wasn't planning on using it anymore because I 'am' concerned about becoming an old bag."

"Ah, old girl, I'll never rub your nose in it."

"Thanks Manny," Cassey said sarcastically. "How are you going to go about this Billy Palmer thing? You are serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious, but I don't have any idea how to do it?"

"Well, you read enough detective mysteries, how do they solve the unknown?"

"Lately with computers, but you know my expertise in that area."

"Maybe it's time to learn? Doesn't it ever bother you that you're the only one still fumbling around in the Stone Age?"

"Hey, I do okay without them."

"Manny, your business might be in someone else's name by now, for all you know."

"I know, I know, it's just so degrading to be so pitifully inept, when everyone else just cruises along on those damn things."

"Manny I told you—"

"I know, I know, they're so easy these days," Manny sighed and sat back in the seat as it began to snow heavier. "I guess it's a good time to learn."

"That'a boy! Before you know it you'll not be looking like a simpleton anymore."

"You sure love to pick on me."

"That's why I married you, and stuck around for so long sweetie. There's always something to do."

"We used to have some good times in winter, when we were kids."

"Everything was much easier then," Cassey responded.

"Were you there the time we set the trap for Wyscouski?"

"It was our porch he bled all over, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Did your dad ever figure out what happened, who did it?"

"Oh, god no! He would have grounded me. I'd probably still be locked in my room. Was it you or Billy that put the rope across the gate?"

"No, it was Weathers, but Billy and I iced down the sidewalk."

"God, you guys darn near killed him. He had black eyes for a month. I was really scared."

"You were scared. What the hell do you think Wyscouski would have done to us if he had figured it out?"

"You and I probably wouldn't be having this conversation."

"That, my dear, is a true story. He laughed about it though, when I confessed years later."

"Yeah, he turned out to be a pretty good guy. He sure was a mean S.O.B. when he was young. Why did you bring him up?" Cassey asked.

"Vietnam, it settled Wyscouski down. You said it, he was really mean when we were kids, but after he got back from Vietnam he mellowed out. All he was ever interested in after that was playing golf."

"Well, see, you're trying to fit the blame for Billy, and there's an example quite the opposite."

"Not really, I never said the war hurt Billy. I said it was what happened after he got back. Wyscouski was a different story all together. Shit, Wyscouski has never had to work a day in his life. He used to terrorize everyone because he was probably bored, and flying combat missions took the edge off him. He said he kissed the ground every time he got back safely. I wonder if he has any thoughts on Billy?"

"He must be gone for the winter by now; you'll have to go someplace warm to talk to that guy."

"That's right, I'll have to," Manny said, suddenly cheering up. "Jesus, look at it snowing. I still can't figure out what you like about this shit?"

"Isn't it pretty?"

"Hell no, it's depressing."

"The cold, the snow, or the fact that the golf course is closed for a few months."

"All of it Babe, all of it! Besides, you should be proud of me because I'm evolving," Manny stated.

"Oh this I've got to hear," Cassey snickered.

"Seriously, I've moved on to a more reptilian phase. I need to lay out on a flat rock in the sun for a while, before I'm worth a shit."

The comment made Cassey burst out in laughter.

"I'm going to call Andrews," Manny added.

"What do you expect to accomplish there?" Cassey asked, still laughing.

"I don't know, but he didn't represent Billy properly. I guess it's as good a place to start as any."

"I'll bet he never got over you guys stripping him and tying him up on my front porch, then ringing the doorbell. I know my mother never did. You guys were so mean to him."

"That's because he was always cheating at everything, especially golf."

"He just wanted to keep up with you guys. I don't remember him being too good at anything."

"He wasn't, especially cheating."

Chapter 2

Manny was sitting on a receptionist's couch, his hair and overcoat damp, forlornly looking out the window. The window was on a floor high enough so that only the very top of the tree next to the building was visible. He was watching the snow swirl around outside, almost obliterating the tree, some of it sticking to the glass and then melting,

"God I hate winter," he mumbled to himself, just as the secretary announced that he could go into the office.

"It's been snowing for five days," he grumbled, walking past her.

"Yes, isn't it pretty," she responded, trying to ruin his melancholy mood.

"I'm not going for it, these winter weenies will never break me," he vowed to himself as he entered the office."

"Andrews, how's it going," Manny asked, extending his hand to the man getting up from behind the desk.

"Not bad Manny," Andrews returned taking Manny's hand, "and you?"

"Oh, okay," Manny said, sitting in the chair by the desk. He could see the snow through the window over Andrews's shoulder. "No complaints," Manny lied.

"What can I do for you?" Andrews asked.

"I was wondering what I'd have to do to get the transcripts of the Billy Palmer trial, the one where you represented him."

"That was thirty years ago, what the heck you interested in him for? He made his own problems you know."

"Is that what you thought of him when you represented him?" Manny asked quickly.

"I did my best for him," Andrews said defensively.

"Did you, or were you jaded, or even influenced back then?"

"Say what you mean, Manny."

"I don't remember the trial going Billy's way. I don't think the truth came out," Manny said, sitting back.

"Those Vietnam vets, probably all fucked up on drugs, whining and crying all the time. They lost the war and then tried to blame everybody else," Andrews lectured.

"I never heard him complain."

"Why the interest now?" Andrews asked.

"I just got back from his funeral."

"Yeah, I heard he died. He wasted his life and now you want to blame somebody. Don't come looking to me."

"I already heard that one from Cassey. I'm not looking to blame anyone, just curious, that's all."

"Shit Manny, after he got back you weren't exactly his friend either."

"No one was. I'm just wondering if we all weren't a little at fault for that so called wasted life. So just get me the transcript and bill me."

"What's Cassey think about all this?"

"She thinks it's my mid-life crisis."

"Could be, you know?"

"Maybe, but I want to find out about Billy, see if I can figure out what went wrong?"

"Maybe he went wrong," Andrews stated flatly.

Chapter 3

A young Billy Palmer, sitting in the witness chair in a crowded court room on any other day would have been a very handsome young man. He had weathered good looks, average height and a strong, sinewy look of endurance. His face looked troubled today, though. His normal confident smile was gone, replaced by a look of apprehension. A mean-spirited, young attorney paced back and forth in front of Billy, calculating, formulating a plan to make the ex-Marine look as bad as possible."

"Answer the question, Mr. Palmer. Have you ever done bodily harm to anyone?" the prosecutor asked, pacing like a hungry animal with the scent of blood.

Billy looked uncomfortable, squirming in his seat, looking to the jury, then to the judge.

"Mr. Palmer, answer my question!" The prosecutor stopped, turning quickly, staring at Billy, a look of determination on his face.

"Objection your honor!" Carl Andrews, Billy's lawyer stated. "This is not relevant!"

"Goes to character your honor," the prosecutor replied quickly.

"Objection denied," the judge stated. "You will answer the question," she said, looking at Billy.

"Your honor, you all know that I was in Vietnam," Billy answered quietly, looking for sympathy.

"Did you ever seriously hurt anyone?" the prosecutor repeated.

"They were trying to hurt 'us'," Billy said quietly.

"Did you lay in wait for these people you hurt?"

"It was my job."

"It was your job to cause harm to others, is that right?"

"Your honor, I object to this line of questioning," the defense attorney whined.

"Your honor, it is relevant. It goes to show that this guy's training is the reason we are here in this court room today," the prosecutor said, turning to include the jury in his deduction.

"You will answer the question, Mr. Palmer," the judge instructed.

"I was only doing my job."

"Then the answer is 'yes', you have caused bodily harm," the prosecutor accused.

Billy sat not moving.

"Your honor, make him answer the question," the prosecutor snarled.

"Mr. Palmer, either you answer, or I will put you in jail until you do," the judge warned.

Taking a deep breathe, Billy answered, "Yes,"

"I see," the prosecutor trumpeted, "you admit to hurting people. Have you ever killed anyone, taken it one step further?"

"I suppose," Billy said with a sigh.

"You suppose! You shot at people, but you don't know if you killed them!"

"We didn't stick around to be sure."

"A real honorable bunch of guys you must have been. Shooting and then running."

"There were only two of—"

"How many people did you shoot at?" the prosecutor interrupted.

"I don't know."

"After the first time, did you think about what you had done?"

"Of course."

"And?"

"And what? What did you think, was it right, or was it wrong?"

"I don't know? I was just glad I wasn't so scared that I screwed up."

"You saw no moral issue here? I mean you've shot at someone, possibly killing them, and you don't see a moral dilemma involved?"

"No, it was war."

"How did you feel, the second time you had someone in your sights?"

"Judge I don't see—" Billy's attorney finally attempted to intervene.

"Answer the question Mr. Palmer!" the prosecutor shouted, ignoring the defense attorney.

"I don't know, I don't remember."

"You just went out and did it again?"

"It was my job," Billy answered calmly, tired of the inquisition

"So, the military convinced you it is okay to administer violence when you feel it is necessary."

"What has that got to do with anything now?" Billy said, trying to defend himself.

"Everything Mr. Palmer, everything! It's the same issue! It has to do with violent behavior. You are a trained killer, Mr. Palmer, and five people," the prosecutor pointed to Andy McPherson, Bueler, Marsha Dent and Manny sitting in the front row, "the witnesses to the fight," then the prosecutor pointed to the sheriff seated a short distance away, "and the officer that took the complaint and investigated the incident, all agree that you are a violent person. Five nonviolent people tell me you can't control your ferocity. Take some responsibility here, Mr. Palmer. You have been brainwashed into thinking that the rights of others do not matter."

"That's not true, they lied!" Billy yelled, starting to stand. The bailiff immediately moved toward Billy and Billy quickly sat back down.

"After you killed your first person, why didn't you stop, refused, done something?" the prosecutor continued.

"You can't do that. It would have been desertion," Billy said, shaking his head.

"Why not, the person you assaulted, beat up, refused to go kill?"

"But, I didn't start it!"

"But you sure finished it."

"I had no choice, he was—"

"No choice! Just like in the Marines, is that right?" The prosecutor had a smug, self-assured look on his face because he was proud of how this was turning out. This grandstanding is fun, I'm sure showing these people what I can do," he congratulated himself.

Billy didn't answer.

"That's just what I figured. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury." The prosecutor turned to the jury box with a look of triumph. "This man was brainwashed into thinking that it is all right to use force, force to get his way."

"That's not tru—" said Billy, angrily.

"Nothing further, Your Honor," the prosecutor interrupted.

"Do you have anything to add Mr. Andrews?" the judge asked.

"No Your Honor." The defense attorney didn't even stand.

"Are you sure Mr. Andrews? This is the last chance you'll have to tell your clients side."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well," the judge said, shaking her head. "Okay, let's hear the final arguments."

The prosecutor walked over to the jury box and leaned on the top rail with both his hands and looked at each of the jurors respectively. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, this trial is about the law and order that we all expect. I have no doubt that the defendant acted out of rage and disillusionment and maybe shame. His recent war experience is much to blame, but the law does not allow for excuses. I feel it is necessary to not only punish this man for his ill deed, but to show him that he must change his thinking and become a member of society again. The only way is for him to lose something and that something should be his freedom for the maximum time allotted by law. We must make the best possible impression on him, for all our benefits. Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen, that is all." The prosecutor walked back to his chair and sat down.

"Mr. Andrews," the judge said.

The defense attorney simply stood and started to speak, not looking at anyone. "This man has suffered enough. He has done his duty for his country and we should consider that in our judgment of him. Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen." Carl Andrews sat down quickly.

Chapter 4

"So how's the computer treating you?" Cassey asked as she put her arms around Manny who was sitting, working.

"Hey, this isn't bad, but I'd hate to tackle it on my own, though. Thanks for all the help."

"Wouldn't want you doing something heinous to it, out of frustration, would we?"

"Now Cassey, I've matured."

"Oh, what happened to the driver I got you for Christmas?"

"That damn thing couldn't find a fairway to save its ass so it got lost in the woods. But this is different, I've got you."

"So, what'cha got so far?"

"I found a guy that served with Billy and called him today. He said he was Billy's team partner. He's a publisher in New York, and I've made arrangements to meet with him next week."

"Can't do it over the phone?"

"I could, but this guy sounds interesting and he was the one that suggested we meet in person. He was really sorry to hear about Billy. He said Billy was quite the Marine. Did you read that court transcript I got?"

"I did. It seemed awfully mean, what they did. Was it fair?"

"No, not in the least, but that's just my opinion. I'm meeting with Amanda Pierce, the judge, tomorrow. Be interesting about what she has to say after all these years. I also found Billy's sister in San Antonio. That should be a warm one."

"You're planning this according to the warm spots?"

"I said I was going to New York," Manny said defensively.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Oh, you know what it's like trying to get anything done from Thanksgiving to New Years."

"Well, people like the holidays, gives them a chance to reflect."

"Contemplating going into debt sounds like a good reason to celebrate. I called the prosecutor, Senator Butt Head too, think I'll get a call back."

"Nah, I'm fairly sure he's never liked you."

"Just because I didn't vote for him?"

"Manny, you pushed him into the girl's bathroom. He had to go all the way through to get out, remember. The doors only worked one way."

"Well, hold a grudge."

"Grudge, I'm surprised he didn't go blind," Cassey laughed.

"Did old Miss Akers really open the stall with her drawers down?"

"Yes, she did."

"Damn, I didn't really dislike him that much, poor guy."

"And you wonder why he doesn't forget."

Chapter 5

Manny cursed under his breath as he opened the door of his snow covered car to get out. Some snow from the roof of the car fell down his neck as he exited the car. "Son of a—" Manny cursed under his breath, trying to extract the cold wet snow with his hand, but simply pushing it farther down his back. He stepped out of the car onto the icy parking lot and his feet started to slide out from under him when he tried to stand. He grabbed the door of the car to keep from falling. After he stabilized himself, he slammed the car door in disgust. He looked up into the slate gray sky. The snowflakes seemed to be getting bigger and more abundant. Manny hunkered down into the large collar of his overcoat, set his sights on the coffee shop front door, and set out. It was a combination duck walk and town drunk shuffle he used to get to the door on the treacherous surface. Once inside the door, Manny looked around, spotting the person he was there to meet.

"Amanda, nice to see you, thanks for coming down on this lovely day," Manny said as he turned his head to indicate outside, a contemptuous look on his face. "How's it feel, not deciding people's fates anymore," he asked as he struggled out of his coat.

"Kind of boring, but lucky for you because I've thrown the book at guys that looked as bad as you did getting to the door."

"But Judge, my only crime is not having claws," Manny laughed.

"Me neither," Amanda returned the laugh, "I never minded winter as long as I was busy, but now I'm not so sure. I'm moving as soon as I tie up the last of the loose ends. I'm going to try a different climate."

"No kidding? Is that for my benefit? I mean the rub to make me jealous?" Manny turned to look out the window and sighed. "I can't believe it's been snowing for six days straight."

"Manny, it's Minnesota, and it's November, what else would you expect?"

"You sound like Cassey, except she loves this shit."

"I used to too, but since I'm retired my thinking has changed. I'm going to try the tropical life style."

"Big switch, but what if you're jaded to incredibly decent weather?"

"I can always come back."

"Where you going, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I think I'll try The Grand Caymans."

"Really? Retired judge slinks off to her secret tax haven, huh? Is this something I should pass on, or keep to myself?" Manny looked at Amanda with a smirk.

"Think it'll make the locals jealous?"

"Damn right. I know I am."

"Good, I had to listen to all their sad songs for too long. I did my thing, now let everyone wonder."

"Atta girl!"

"So Manny, you sounded official over the phone. What's on your mind?"

"Billy Palmer."

Amanda contoured her lips and crinkled her brow, her eyes getting serious. She still had the expressional face, that timeless professional attractiveness. She could go from incredibly compassionate and mother-like to stone cold dangerous, just from the change in her face, as many found out when they stood in her court looking up at her.

"Billy's trial was only my third one so I was pretty new. Carl Andrews kind of tied my hands on that one. He didn't give me any reasons to go soft on Palmer. I did what I thought I was being paid for."

"You seem culpable about that now?"

"I've always felt bad about the decision I had to make, but like I said my hands were tied. I almost went to the funeral."

"What stopped you?"

"I didn't figure it would do anything for Billy and just make 'me' feel bad. What is it you want to know about him?"

"He wasn't guilty," Manny stated.

"So I found out later. How come 'you' didn't step forward at the time?"

"I was selfish. Cassey was my thing then, and it worked to my advantage."

"That's a big confession; not many people would be willing to expose themselves so blatantly."

"It may sound noble, but admitting it just makes me feel worse," Manny confessed. "When did you realize Billy wasn't guilty?"

"I wasn't certain until years later. I found out long after it was too late to do anything about it."

"Then why the guilty feelings about your decision at the time?"

"You always question yourself when you can put somebody away. It's a hell of a power they give you, and Billy had no criminal record before that, except some cannon thing."

Manny laughed.

"I never really found out what it was about," Amanda continued, "and he was never in any trouble after that. When you sentence somebody, it's kind of a justification to see them again. You know, reinforcement because I was right about so and so the first time because here they are again. I never saw Billy again, and never heard a bad thing about him after that either. Gets you wondering."

"Didn't you wonder about the lousy defense he got?"

"Oh sure, I wouldn't hire Carl Andrews to represent my goldfish, but in Carl's defense, he realized that and got out of criminal law.

"What made you give Billy the sentence you did?"

"The prosecutor was very good. He convinced me Billy was guilty."

"But was it fair, bringing Vietnam up, accusing him of being dangerous because of his war experiences?"

"That had nothing to do with my decision. I sentenced Billy because I thought the jury was right, that Billy had assaulted Bueler and I didn't realize the truth at the time."

"You said you found the truth later, how?

"Marsha Dent. She got in a little trouble later and confessed to me, hoping to get my sympathy."

"She was always in trouble."

"She probably still is. I got the impression she had an interest in Billy and he snubbed her. Anything to that?"

"I suppose so, but she threw herself at any available guy. I know Billy never had any interest in her. So you think that's why she never came forward?"

"Hard to say, but she wasn't the only one that kept quiet." Amanda looked at Manny, waiting to see what he had to say.

"I already confessed!" Manny said throwing his hands up defensively.

"So you did, so you did."

"So Bill's Vietnam thing had nothing to do with it?"

"I'd like to think so. Anyway that's what I tell myself, but dammit, we were all sick of that bloody war and I guess a little guilty we got pulled in and lost so much. But like I said, that prosecutor was sharp and I didn't know it at the time, politically hungry. He was looking to his future and that trial was his spring board. You know they call him Senator now."

"I know, I called him, but he won't talk to me."

"Does that surprise you?"

"No, nobody wants to take the blame."

"What blame? Look, I can appreciate what you're trying to do; right a terrible wrong. Maybe it needs to be done and I applaud you. Manny, people hate to be held accountable for things they did in the past, especially if they appeared to be right at the time. Christ we could all be permanently crippled by our guilt. Why are you so determined?"

"So it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, you have a son in the service, am I right?"

"Yeah, Donny, great kid. Cassey and I went to Kentucky to see him last summer and met many of his fellow soldiers. Hard to believe, but a quarter of them were girls. One was absolutely gorgeous. I would have never figured that. I mean, here's a heart stopper and she's running around in fatigues, playing soldier. I asked Donny how the guys treated her and he said, 'Real careful, if you didn't want your eyes gouged out.' None of the guys could figure out how to put the hustle on her because she was so serious about the soldier thing. I'll tell you, Donny and his friends are sharp, dedicated soldiers. I don't want to see them abandoned if things get tough."

"Those boys in Vietnam saw to that, Manny. We never thanked them because we didn't appreciate their sacrifice until much later, but we will always remember. We know now that we cannot afford to throw away our fine young men and women. There's a great big wall in Washington that sees to that. You know, our esteemed Senator fights every day for the troops."

"Do you think he remembers how he helped destroy one?"

"Maybe that's the reason he fights so hard for them now."

"I sent a copy of the trial transcript to his office, I wonder if he'll read it."

"I'm not too sure how happy that will make him. If big black cars start appearing in your life, you'll know he wasn't tickled about being reminded."

"Did he ever find out the truth; that Billy wasn't guilty?"

"I brought it up one time, after I knew."

"And?"

"And politicians have extremely thick hides."

"When I mentioned the cannon incident, you laughed," Amanda said. "I was away at school so I never did hear the real story. You know anything about it?"

"Oh, hell yeah, I was there. We were in our mad bomber stage, making bombs, cannons, that sort of thing, blowing stuff up. Andy's next door neighbor, Bruce Little's Dad, had that machine shop and Billy and Bruce got one of the guys at the shop to bore out a cannon so it would fire a big ass ball bearing. They did all this without Bruce's dad knowing. This guy that worked in the shop bought us beer because we fixed him up with GMA, 'Get More Ass,' a girl we went to school with. Bruce blackmailed him into making the cannon."

"Bruce and Andy brought the cannon to Bruce's house, since his parents were away, and they made a wooden mount for it. Billy's going, 'Guys, this is not a residential thing. This is not good. Let's take it out in the country, or something, etc.' Billy wasn't too keen on firing it in town. Andy couldn't get the car because his sister was hogging it, and they wanted to shoot this thing off, really bad. So they put this monstrosity in the middle of Bruce's back yard, poured a shit pot of black powder down the barrel, stuffed rags in, rolled the ball bearing in, rammed everything tight and pointed it at the garden shed next to the fence. We stacked plywood left over from a porch remodel, stored behind the shed, to fire the ball bearing into. We had four of these thick plywood sheets stacked next to each other."

"Andy, Bruce, and I were all go on this thing, but Billy was still talking 'No.' Anyway, we light the fuse and run like hell around the side of the house, and it goes off. Kaaaboooomm! It shook the house. It shook houses for blocks around, busted nine windows total. We look around the house and the backyard is full of black smoke, I mean obscured, and the cannon's gone, ripped right off the mount. It put a huge divot in Bruce's backyard and knocked down a whole section of fence."

"Andy is freaking out because he knows his mother is still home, and he's just got off being grounded for some other shit. Billy and I go running to see how far the ball bearing went into the plywood. We pull one sheet after the other until they are all laying there with big ass, ragged holes through all of them. There's a big hole in the side of the garden shed. We look inside the shed, and the mower in there has no handles, just two stubs, and the shed has a hole out the other side. We run out of the shed, and there is a big hole in the fence. Andy by this time has run home and Bruce is hiding, I don't know where, so that leaves Billy and me."

"Billy crawls between the shed and the fence and looks through the hole, and yells out, 'Uh oh, it's someplace inside Andy's house.' We figure it's time for us to go too and we get the hell out of there. The cannon ball stopped in the back of the sofa in Andy's living room. Andy's mother just happened to be sitting on the sofa and got a bruised hip."

"Andy deigned any connection to the affair, Bruce was toast cause all the evidence was there in his back yard, but the asshole that built it went to bat for the boss's son and the whole thing landed squarely on Billy. It was the talk of the town for weeks. He was lucky Andy's mother wasn't hurt bad, and everyone was sort of laughing about it. So, it wasn't too serious in every one's head, but it cost Billy a pretty good chunk of change. He had to pay for everything. He worked that whole damn summer, just to pay it off"

"You got away with everything?" Amanda asked.

"At the time my parents were real strict, Billy's weren't, so he took the blame. Besides, he was the one that built it. I was clean except for going along with Andy and Bruce. I did pay for all the beer that Billy drank that summer though."

Chapter 6

Manny was back in Carl Andrews office, standing over the desk. He had declined the offer to sit down.

"You dumb ass, the prosecutor made him admit to shooting at people and you never cleared the air. They weren't people, god damn-it, he was shooting at the enemy. Why didn't you bring that up?"

"I didn't think it was relevant."

"How can you call yourself an attorney? You let him hang, dip shit!"

"He got himself into it! And don't you come here talking to me like that! I will not stand for it! You hear me!"

"They were all lying, Carl! You talked to Marsha, she was there and she told you Bueler started it. So don't bother trying to protect your integrity. Not with me, not now!"

"What about you Manny? You knew what happened, and you didn't say anything."

"I was not hired to defend him and I certainly didn't take an oath to protect him. That would be you, Carl."

"It was no big deal, the judge only gave him six months."

"For something he didn't do."

"If he was so tough, he should have handled it. You know, life doesn't always hand us a dream world.

"No, not all of us, that's for sure. You and I got handed one though, and Billy Palmer, he got handed shit."

"Gee, life sure sucks. Why are you doing this after all these years? You weren't his biggest fan either, if I remember correctly."

"No, no I wasn't, and I'm damned ashamed of it now. Now we all trip over our dicks to salute our heroes, but we were damn quick to deny them even the slightest respect then."

"They were different, our men and women are much better now.

"Oh, really! If as you say; the youth was all screwed up then, that includes all of us. You and I included, bozo. But that does make sense, considering the job you did for Billy!"

"Look Manny, darnit, I didn't do the best job I could have, but I was young, and to tell you the truth I was never cut out for the court room. I didn't hate Billy. He was a vet back from that horrible place, and we were so inundated with negative propaganda. I don't need to explain or defend my opinion regarding the time. I think vastly different about what happened in Vietnam these days. Do you know, I've gone to the Wall three times. I've walked the paths up and down that horrible place more than once. I've stopped and read the names, many of the names, and believe me, it makes you think. I thought of Billy every time I was there. You ever been there Manny?"

"No, I've been in Washington, but never—"

"Go look at all the names," cut in Carl, "and then we can discuss this again, fair enough? And Manny, sometimes I think about being tied up on Cassey's porch. I kind of chuckle to myself and wish it could have been you."

*

Manny decided to call Ed Wyscouski, the resident bully he had discussed with Cassey. Wyscouski had played golf with Billy after they had returned from the service. Back then Wyscouski had been learning the game and Billy was helping him.

"Hey Ed, Manny Anderson."

"Manny, how the hell you doing? I imagine it must be getting good and miserable, about now?"

"You got it," Manny replied.

Ed Wyscouski had not spent a winter in Red Pine in years.

"So, what's on your mind? Going to take me up on the offer to spend some time down here this winter?"

"I might just do that Ed, but the reason I called is; I just attended Billy Palmer's funeral.

Wyscouski was quiet for a moment. "Damn, I hadn't heard. I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good guy and then he just disappeared. What the heck happened to him?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to find out?"

"Now? It's a little late Manny my friend, and don't go blaming Vietnam, Palmer came back just fine."

"I know, I know, but I just can't get it out of my mind that we might have been a little responsible."

"Oh, don't let it get you down, Manny, of course you were responsible. You were just too immature, then. Too immature to appreciate the tough, necessary job someone else was taking care of for you."

"Thanks Wyscouski, is that supposed to help me feel better?"

"Manny, you don't want to feel better. If you did, you wouldn't have called. Manny, what you're concerned about has been happening forever and always will. It's called a guilt trip."

"I know that, but—"

"But what?" Wyscouski interrupted. "Get off your dead ass, find out what Billy was all about, and then you can feel better about yourself. Let me know what you find."

*

Manny and Cassey were sitting together, cuddling and watching the fireplace crackle and pop.

"You didn't tell me what happened with Carl today."

"Oh, I went tearing in there, told him off good."

"And?"

"And, he pulled some lawyer shit on me."

"Really Sherlock, that's what they get paid for, you know."

"Yeah, he nailed me good, made me look bad. You want to meet me in Washington?"

"To do what?"

"I want to go see the Vietnam Memorial."

"What brought that on? We've been there a couple of times, and you never—"

"Andrews stuck it to me. I made a big spiel about his duty to Billy, and he asked me if I had ever been to the Wall. Turns out he has, more than once, and I get the feeling he shed a tear or two, and now I need to go."

"I thought you were headed to New York to see the publisher buddy of Billy's?"

"On the way back, I'll just be stopping in D. C. for the day."

"Well, I'll pass, you don't want me sobbing at some dreary monument. You know how I get, but thanks for asking."

Chapter 7

"Thank you for seeing me Mark," Manny said, shaking hands with Mark Tainer, Billy's ex-partner. "It appears that you are a very busy man, so I won't take up much of your time."

"No problem, Manny." Mark pointed to a big chair off to the side of his desk. "I can always take some time out to chat about old and dear friends. It was a shock to hear that Billy Palmer was gone. Bill and I were very close, we went through some interesting times together. We operated as a two man team, back then; where our very existence depended on our actions coordinating."

"When was the last time you talked to Billy?"

"Oh boy, let me think? Damn, it must be twenty-five years now. He came to see me just after I got married."

"You didn't stay in touch?"

"Well, Manny, I have a confession to make. My first wife was not too pleased to have an old Marine buddy show up. She was very demanding and any attention that went somewhere else was not appreciated by her highness. Billy was very uncomfortable, and I was very much in love, so the reunion wasn't a big success. I stayed married to that particular lady for twelve years and by the time I got clear, Billy was long lost, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, I can understand," Manny returned. "I was really close to Billy once, and a woman came between us too."

"But, in all honesty," Tainer quickly returned, "after I got back to civilian life it wasn't so important anymore. In the Marines we were close out of a need for the moment," Tainer confessed.

"Can you tell me what it was like, what Billy was like to serve with?" Manny asked.

"Yes, I probably could, but first you should understand why we did what we did. There are many misconceptions about Vietnam. The truth was never an issue that was explored in any depth. There have always been two great questions: one, why we got involved in the first place, and two, why couldn't we win?" Mark sat, waiting for a response from Manny.

"I don't know? It's kind of why I'm here," Manny said, filling in the gap. "I knew so little about it, but I was warned to stay out of it by the very guy I'm trying to find out about."

"Palmer told you to stay out of it huh? What exactly did he tell you?"

"That it was a bunch of shit, a load of crap, and that I didn't have what it would take to stay alive. Of course, he told everyone that. He said we would make terrible soldiers because thirteen months was no way to run a war. If you got sent over there, all you had to do was make the thirteen months and then you could go home. As soon as you get there, you started counting the days. The only motivation is to survive, not seek out and destroy the enemy."

"Yes, it's a hell of a penalty when the other side is following different rules. They stay until the job is done, or they die. Were you offended by Billy telling you all this?" Mark returned.

"At the time, I guess a little. Some of the other guys were pissed off, but looking back, they probably wanted to hear that. I can remember them showing body bags on TV. Christ that's all you saw night after night, the same old shit. I know, I didn't want to go after seeing that a few times. All Billy really ever told me about the war; was that it was his first, definitive reality check when he was looking at body bags that were his friends. He realized he was going in one direction and they were going in another."

"Know anybody that was killed?" Mark asked

"Yeah, a couple of guys from the next town over bought it."

"What did you think of that?"

"It scared the shit out of me."

"And you saw it continually, on TV?"

"Every night."

"Yeah, the media was definitely out of control. The first mission Billy and I got was riding shotgun for this French Journalist. Man was she ugly. She would run right up front when the shit hit the fan, trying to get the Pulitzer Picture. She'd stick her camera right in the faces of the wounded. A real heartless bitch. She finally got shot in the ass on the fourth day. The media was there to line their own nests, but it wasn't the reason we 'apparently' lost," Mark said seriously, sitting forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk.

"The main reasons we 'apparently' lost that battle," he continued, "was one, we were compromised in the field. Every operation, every move we made was relayed to our allies, the South Vietnamese. The war was supposed to be a joint cooperation with the ARVIN, the South Vietnamese Army and they were full of Viet Cong. Second, politics, and the likes of you helped loose the war Manny. You and the politicians because any democracy will have trouble defeating any enemy that does not directly threaten the home front. Unless the enemy is marching down main street there will be some politician or political advocate that will be looking for an issue to rally support, to either get votes or to shirk responsibility."

"Why does that include me?" Manny asked, curious.

"Because; Billy warned you that it was not in your best interest, so you didn't support the effort!" Tainer criticized. "And the other side realized that if they just held out, eventually that lack of support would turn in their favor. You know Manny, a bunch of hayseeds with a half-baked, personal agenda can cancel out any worthwhile endeavor."

"There was nothing worthwhile about Vietnam," Manny declared.

"Oh really," Tainer said, annoyed. "Any Communists running around, pointing missiles in our direction these days?"

"Well, yeah, China—" Manny started to list the countries, but Tainer cut him off.

"All headed toward capitalistic societies," Tainer said. "They want to be like us because we broke the Soviet Union by standing up to their military expansion. Vietnam is now one of the fastest growing economies in the world because we gave them the taste of freedom and prosperity. We may have lost the battle, but we did win the war."

"There should be a better way than stomping on people to get their attention," Manny commented.

"Not so far, not in our barbaric world," Tainer said.

"You said we were compromised in the field, and no one did anything about it?" Manny asked.

"It was so despicable the government still won't talk about it, let alone admit anything, and they knew the whole time. They had this program, something thought up, by I can't imagine who, called Cheiu Hoi, Open Arms. We paid any Viet Cong eighty-five dollars a month to come on over to our side. At that time their national average income was about two hundred and fifty dollars a year. Well, come over they did, but the powers that be didn't exactly screen those guys. They came over all right, but all we got were VC agents. Of course when it became evident that the whole thing was a failure, nobody wanted to admit the mistake, so the easiest thing to do was deny there was anything wrong."

"Come on Tainer, how could they be so stupid?"

"You want to hear stupid? A society that still had one foot in the stone age was able to completely humiliate the most advanced technological society to date, and get paid while doing it. That's beyond stupid, it's ludicrous, but fact. Too much money was flowing and no one was willing to stand up and say enough, let's fix it. In a capitalistic society anyone that rocks the boat when things are humming will meet a stone wall."

"So, even though we were being sold out, it continued because no one wanted to take the blame, or stop the money," Manny commented.

"Yup, when we were there in 66, our sniper teams controlled an area between Con Tien and the Rock Pile, an area in northwest Vietnam. We acted with impunity in that area. The teams controlled an area 30 miles long and 20 miles deep, right up to the river to North Vietnam and the Laotian border. Just on the other side of the boarder was the Ho Chi Min trail. Boy, that was something up there, once you got into stalking the prey, the hunting and the kill, it's hard to back away. I don't know if I could to this day if I was presented with the opportunity."

"Anyway, Marine Force Recon operated beyond us, right into Laos and North Vietnam. They used to come back pissed off as hell. They would find troop concentrations, camps, truck parks, all kinds of NVA convoys and supply depots, then they would call in air strikes and sit and watch the target empty before the strike would take place. It would take sometimes two days until the strike would occur and by then the bombs would find nothing but empty jungle to wreak. We had a policy of working with our allies and by god, the powers that be, regardless of the outcome stuck to their policy."

"Didn't anyone figure out what was going on?"

"Of course everyone knew what was happening, but squawking about it didn't do any good. Shit, the guys that saw it happening were told that how the war was run was none of their business. They were putting their lives on the line and being betrayed by their own commanders and everybody knew it."

"My god, I never realized it was that bad, that our government could be so inept?"

"Manny, you're a business man, what makes a business fail?"

"You run out of money."

"And if the money never stops flowing?"

"I guess you don't need to be too bright, if that's the case."

"It's the first rule of politics, money talks. That's how we ended up in Vietnam, in the first place. Vietnam had a long history of being invaded and repelling those that transgressed on her turf. The big question was why did the U.S. attempt to conqueror an enemy with such a stellar record? Well, it's simple, the U.S. never thought about winning any war there. They had just bought fifty-five hundred Huey helicopters from Bell, located in Texas, LBJ's home turf by the way. The U.S. military needed a combat situation to test the new fast attack principle made possible by the introduction of the Huey. The Huey was light, powerful, and easy to manufacture, and there was plenty of money to run the test.

"The military was blinded by the desire to modernize and forgot the main reason they should have been there, to win what they started. By the time they had gotten the data they needed to understand the principle of helicopter warfare, they were caught in a situation they needed to get out of, but couldn't."

"I guess that's what Billy was trying to tell us when he got back," Manny said. "He hated the war, called it criminal. He got so angry about the things being said about the soldiers being screw-ups. He put all the blame on the politicians, but he never explained it like you just did. Many people used that against him, said that he was defending the problem, defending baby killers, that sort of thing. I can remember him saying, let me see if I can remember this right. He told me that quote, 'Politics is a system devised by those that can't, to reap the benefits earned by those that can.'

"Bingo!" Tainer laughed. "You'll never find a politician that knows the meaning of 'oops'."

"That was Palmer all right," Mark continued. "He was a smart dude. He had a feel for the war, knew what was going on. Everyone in our outfit looked up to him, and everyone wanted to go into the field with Billy. He had a reputation for finding the action and living to tell about it.

"He never said much about it after he was back," Manny commented.

"What did you expect him to say?"

"I don't know, but not telling any stories led people to think that he wasn't really in combat, that he was over there fucking off, or something."

"Oh Manny, I don't know if you ever figured it out or not, but guys that spend to much energy telling pussy or war stories are generally full of shit."

"Yeah, I figured that out, 'eventually'. I kind of figured Billy had been in the thick of it, and I think most other people suspected it too, but there's always the ones that can't tally anything. Billy had gotten wounded and there was a rumor that he had lost his arm or hand, but when he came back home he was all in one piece, so the rumors started flying. He wouldn't say anything, so no one got the truth."

"I'm curious about something you said?" Manny continued. "You said you guys controlled this area. How can that be? I'd always heard that the countryside belonged to the VC."

"Oh bullshit! The Viet Cong and NVA planned everything in detail, from an ambush to an attack. If you hit them unexpectedly they didn't know what to do, and besides, they were afraid of the jungle. The whole population of that country, North and South, lived next to the jungle, but they only went in fifty feet to relieve themselves and then right back out to the trail, village, or paddy. As children they never played in the jungle, out back in the woods, like we did. We never saw any villagers in there, not like the American soldier. Shit, as kids we all played in the woods, hunting and fishing, exploring, cowboys and indians, even playing soldier for Christ sakes. And how many of us got our first piece of ass out in the woods. It's good prep, believe me."

"Wasn't the jungle different? I mean nastier than back home?"

"Where you from, Minnesota, didn't you say?"

"Yeah, Red Pine Minnesota."

"Any woods around?"

"Oh, hell yeah, mostly woods, some very thick stuff too. You can get really lost if you aren't careful. Hunters get lost all the time, some of them die walking around in circles. You could get eaten to death by the mosquitoes."

"Spend any time in there?"

"Hell yes, did a lot of hunting. And, yeah, got laid too."

"Get any good figuring out how to find your way around?" Tainer asked.

"Oh yeah! Not as good as Billy though, everyone kind of followed his lead."

"That was Billy's forte, map reading," Tainer explained. "He had this skill of always knowing exactly where he was and where to go, at all times. When we got to going out with the line companies, the officers relied on him almost exclusively. I remember one time a platoon commander was arguing with his CO about our position. This Lt. was certain we were in this particular village and Billy disagreed. The CO went with Billy and sure enough he was right. They were calling in artillery and you didn't want to be in the wrong spot when it hit.

"I remember that, Billy was real savvy about the woods." Manny said, shaking his head in agreement.

"Same as Vietnam. Like I said, the enemy had no experience in that shit, so it gave us a big advantage."

"Yeah, still, wasn't the jungle a lot more dangerous? We didn't have poison snakes in our neck off the woods."

Tainer laughed. "Hell, I grew up in Magnolia, Arkansas, woods just as bad as any jungle, swamps, bogs, quick sand, water moccasins, rattlesnakes, you name it. Most of that shit is nothing more than an uncomfortable annoyance if you know what you're doing. You know what Billy liked about the Vietnam Jungle, as opposed to Minnesota?" Tainer asked, waiting for Manny to answer.

Manny just shrugged.

"You brought it up, mosquitoes," Tainer continued. "He said that the bugs were nothing compared to back home. The jungle is a lot quieter to move around in too, not as much dry material, everything is damp and soft. We could slither through that shit without making a sound. We'd sometimes see how close we could get to the little buggers, just for the hell of it. Slip right up to them and then back out. We even snatched a kid one night. Some damn kid soldier, about twelve, went out in the woods to take a dump and walked right up to us. He dropped his pants about a foot from me and I just reached out and grabbed him, one hand over his mouth and that was it. Poor kid had walked for three months from the North, up around Hanoi. He had an AK47, three magazines, and a sock of rice. The poor bastard was convinced we were going to eat him, anyway that's what he was told."

"I sure hated to turn him over to the ARVIN bastards, knowing what they'd do to him, but that was the policy. They'd torture the hell out of their own people, just to make it look good. Make us think that they really hated the Viet Cong, when they were Cong themselves. Crazy shit huh?" Tainer said shaking his head in disgust.

"I remember one time after we moved down South," Tainer continued, "we were based southwest of Da Nang. The base camp was surrounded by villages and rice paddies and we couldn't operate like we did in the North, so we went out with the companies. That was a fuckin mess. A hundred idiots walking down the trails and across the paddies in full view, yelling, cursing. Now, that scared the shit out of me. Anyway, sometimes some asshole company commander would try and mess with us, try to make us walk point, stand watches, some stupid shit that we didn't like, so we'd grab a villager and call in a chopper."

"We were in charge of prisoners, captured gear, so forth and were supposed to escort any prisoners to the ARVIN compound in Da Nang. We grabbed a couple of villagers one day, a man and a woman, after some stupid shit and figured we'd spend a couple days in Da Nang, see some movies, drink a little beer, whatever. Anyway, an ARVIN chopper picks us up with these two villagers and we're up there at five thousand feet, and this ARVIN Major is interrogating these villagers. Trying anyway, I mean shit all we've got is a couple rice farmers, grabbed out of a fuckin paddy while they're working away. So this Major is getting nothing but "toy comb beick, 'I don't know', and he gets pissed, and grabs the woman, and throws her out of the chopper. I couldn't believe it! I thought Billy was going to kill this son-of-a-bitch. Billy had his hands around the Major's neck, holding him about a foot off the chopper floor, choking the shit out of him, the little bastard's legs kicking away. I had to pop Billy in the back of the head with my rifle butt, to get him to stop."

"Jesus, what happened then?"

"Not much, the Major was sitting on the floor gagging, his sidekick pointing out the door screaming, 'VC, VC.' They weren't about to mess with Billy because he had this nasty look on his face. I was worried that Billy was going to shoot somebody, really. I'm sure they were thinking the same thing. When the chopper landed, they were in a real big hurry to get rid of us."

"Yeah, I remember Billy getting mad," Manny added. "It was rare, but when he did, watch out. I remember playing hockey. Billy was tough, that was one place you didn't want to mess with him. One time I hit him with a high stick and he warned me. I did it again, I hit him in the nose, and I was sure sorry I didn't take him serious. He zeroed in on me for the rest of the game and made my life miserable. I ended up crawling into a snow bank and laying there for half an hour after the game was over."

"So you guys took the war serious, huh?" Manny continued. "I'll bet you two were good?"

"Oh yeah, shit we'd catch those buggers, sometime as many as a hundred, pop off a couple shots, then move and they never came after us. Like I told you, they didn't know what to do because we surprised them. I remember Billy and I followed a couple squads of NVA, North Vietnamese Army, porters for three days, picking them off, slowly but surely, and they never tried to come and get us. The only reason we backed off was they moved into an area of rice paddies, and we lost our cover."

"I can almost visualize that, I remember Billy was a good shot," Manny said.

"Actually, Billy didn't like to shoot that much," Tainer commented, "after he nailed an old lady with a chair. One day we saw two people in black pajamas diddy bopping down a trail across a paddy about 500 meters away. One of them had something sticking up from a pack on their back. Looked like a rifle from that distance. Turned out to be a chair that had been taken apart. Not a good scene. Anyway, after that Billy tended to run the show instead, spotter, decision maker, etc. He was very astute and cautious. After the chair thing, he was especially careful to make sure that we were taking shots at the proper people."

"You talk the same as Billy," Manny said. "I notice that you don't like to use gook or other derogatory slang to describe the other side."

"It wasn't their fault, they were jacked into a bunch of bullshit, just like we were. At least we had some idea of what was going on. They were mostly uneducated and continually brainwashed. At least we only had to go through that shit in boot camp. Once you got to Vietnam, it was every man for himself, and like I said before, you learned to loath your side more, knowing what you did."

"Do you think that many of those ARVIN you talked about, eventually got here, to the states I mean?" asked Manny.

"Oh, I'd imagine a lot of them did. They were the smart ones, looking out for themselves. I don't blame them either. I figure that if they're lucky enough, they can come here and then do the best they can, more power to them." Tainer looked at Manny for a moment, then asked. "So what happened to Palmer? What's got you so interested in us old sniper dudes?"

"Oh, the more I find out about you guys, the madder I get at myself," Manny answered.

"You're pissed about something?" Tainer questioned. "You mentioned that a woman came between you guys. What did you do to Palmer that you're regretting now?"

"A lot of things I guess. Billy and I were great friends since we were in grade school. He was a great kid. We had a lot of fun, I can remember so many things now."

"What happened?"

"He went to Vietnam, I stayed home.

"How come?"

"Oh, Billy took off right out of high school. We were at a party one night and there was a Life Magazine with a pictorial about the war. A bunch of us were looking at it and Billy made some comment about it looked interesting, or something like that. Anyway, somebody, I can't remember who, called him on the comment and Billy said, "Oh yeah" and next thing we know, he's volunteered for the draft. It was only two years that way and Billy said he had no interest in staying in the military any longer than he had to. After he passed his physical, they said he could have his choice of the Army, or the Marines because he had volunteered. I remember him laughing about how it was February and Army boot camp was in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, and the Marine boot camp was in San Diego. He made his choice based on the weather alone. He said he was standing on yellow footprints, at attention, with some nasty little bastard yelling in his face, before he realized he should have thought it through better."

"That was a shock all right," Mark laughed. "I was right there with him. We went through boot camp and then the Vietnam thing together. I can remember Billy getting into all kinds of trouble for laughing. This little DI would stand right in front of him staring up, giving him a line of shit. I mean this little guy was really tough, but funnier than hell. He'd pick on Billy, until Billy would smirk or something, and then Palmer would end up doing squat thrusts. I think that DI got a kick out of Palmer. The day we graduated that DI put his hand on Billy's shoulder and told him to be careful and pay attention, that the war was no joke.

"How did you guys end up snipers?" Manny asked.

"When we got over there, they were looking at our records and we both scored high on the rifle range and they asked us if we were interested in going to sniper school. One of the Marines advised us that the regular ground pounders was not the way to go and we took it. I can't tell you how many times I was grateful that we did what we did. I felt sorry for those regular grunts, man they had it rough. They were tired, dirty, scared, humping all day, then digging in, standing watch half the night. It all adds up to being numb, that's the only way to continue. It went on day after day and there was nothing they could do about it. It could be a booby trap, a couple of shots by a sniper, a mortar round thrown in, but it's all the same. A chopper comes and does its thing, takes somebody away. Sometimes it's someone you know, sometimes not. Worst is when you're close to someone. Getting close only takes a couple of hours because the guys talk about what they miss the most, what's dear to them. You want to hear about anybody's home, the 'World', as we called it, and it doesn't matter who's version you get. It is where you want to be instead of where you are. That's about as close as you can get to someone in a short time."

"Sometimes it can happen two, three, four times in a single day." Tainer continued, sadness in his vice. "It all happens so fast, a body bag laying there was minutes ago some guy you were just talking to. It's strange, but your heart doesn't ache for that guy, but for the family back in the States that you know is going to get some shitty news in the next few hours. That's where your thoughts go. To them because they had nothing to do with this, but they're going to pay. The more they loved that guy, the worse it's going to be."

Tainer paused, looked out the window, and then continued. "I hated it when we had to go with the line companies. I mean talk about stupid shit. When we were in the jungle, just a couple of us, or maybe four or five sometimes, it was so much better."

"I would think it would be dangerous, just a small number of guys?" Manny commented.

"No, like I told you, we moved without them knowing where we were, or if we were there at all. Shit, we were so good that we snuck up on a tiger one time."

"No shit!"

"No shit! Sucker jumped about five feet straight up in the air, turned and vanished. I doubt if that cat had ever seen humans in the bush before. Really surprised his ass!" Tainer looked at Manny. "Now that I've told you about Billy and Vietnam, you tell me why you're here?"

"I told you Billy died last month," Manny answered.

"Yeah, and?"

"He didn't have it so good after Vietnam," Manny said sadly.

"Many of the guys had it rough, not just Billy. I know a few guys that never fit in after they were back. They're still out there, wondering around, unstable as hell. The war was their only chance to shine and they'd do it again, in a flash. Many of them came from small towns just like Billy, and the military was their only cosmopolitan experience. After the service, they went back to the small town, and the training they got wasn't exactly something they could use to assimilate."

"Makes sense, I could see where that could happen," Manny agreed. "You know some of these guys, keep in touch?"

"I know they're out there. You have something you want to get off your chest?" Tainer asked.

"How did you know that?"

"I'm a smart guy, that's how I got through the war without a scratch, I might add."

"Billy was wounded," Manny said.

"Yeah, more than once."

"How did it happen?"

"You tell me what's on your mind first, and I'll decide if you're worth any more of my time," Mark Tainer answered.

"Fair enough."

Chapter 8

"Billy and I were friends since seventh grade," Manny explained. "He moved from someplace on the East coast that summer, the one between seventh and eighth grades. I met him at the golf course, he was a good player and so was I. The golf course was a hangout, most of my friends parents belonged, like mine did. Billy's didn't, but he hung around there to caddie. He was a good player and the golf pro let him play. We pretty much lived at the course in the summer because they also had a swimming pool and tennis courts. Everyone liked Billy because he was fun. The girls liked him too because he was nice to them, kind of like a brother, or a confidant. Billy was sort of daring, not beyond pulling stunts. If you were looking for something to do, he was the guy. He was sort of a loner too. I mean, you couldn't talk him into doing anything he didn't want to do and he didn't push himself on you, but the good stuff just seemed to happen around Billy. I mean, I could sit here for hours and tell you about some funny stuff. He could screw around in school and most of the time the teachers would get a laugh out of it. He never did something that got anybody else in trouble, and if any trouble came our way, he would cop to it, even if he wasn't the one, and it would blow over. Oh, he wasn't an angel or anything like that because there were something's that we could have gotten into real trouble over, but we were lucky, I guess."

"One of our big things was throwing snow balls at cars and it got a little out of control. They had this husband and wife golf tourney every summer, kind of crazy golf, and they had this big sling-shot to fire the golf balls on one hole. We got a hold of it and used it to fire ice balls at cars because it would shoot a whole block. We pummeled the three cop cars in town one night for about half an hour from the back of a nursery. One of the cops got pissed and started shooting his pistol at us, so we scrammed. We saved the slingshot and put it back, so the cops never figured it out.

"There was this Hood, that's what we called the tough guys then, Wyscouski, and he used to beat everyone up. We set a trap for him one night. We hit Wyscouski's car with snow balls and when he got out, Billy let Wyscouski see him so he would chase him. Billy drew him into this back yard with a high fence and we were all waiting. Man, did we knock the shit out of Wacko, that was his nick name. Anyway, he tried to run out the other side gate, but we had iced down the sidewalk and stretched a blackened rope across the open gate and Wyscouski caught it right in the running lights. We thought we had killed him, knocked him out cold. Billy and I carried him across the street and put him on Billy's girlfriend's porch and rang the doorbell. He never figured out who it was until years later. He would have killed us then, I'm sure. He suspected Billy, but I think he kind of liked Billy, cause he never did anything to him."

"We used to work together and Billy was kind of over me. It wasn't official, or anything, but he was just more dependable than I was, and better with the customers. The boss, old man McPherson, knew it and kind of took advantage of Billy because Billy would take care of anything that came up and the old man counted on it. He never gave Billy anything extra, but he used to compliment him a lot. 'Pump sunshine up my skirt,' as Billy used to say. Billy used to cover for me and Andy McPherson, the boss's son. Andy was a real fuck-up, but his dad let him get away with a lot and Billy picked up the slack, so Andy didn't look so bad. I can remember one time I got Billy fired. It was all my fault. We were working Saturday and I came in late. I had, had a rough night." Manny sat thinking, reflecting back.

"Geez Manny, you stink! How much you drink last night? Billy asked me when I got in."

"I told him, 'Way too much man and I feel like shit. I don't know if I can do this. Oh my head!'"

"'Shit,' advised Billy, 'we're the only two this morning, you've got to stick it out,'"

"I told him I didn't know if I could, that throwing up on customers was a real possibility."

"Billy laughed and said, 'Well don't barf on somebody important. Old Man McPherson will fire us both. He's already pissed.'"

"I wanted to know if McPherson had been in yet and Billy said, 'Yeah, he's down at the diner getting breakfast.' Billy covered for me and told the old man I was having car trouble, but was on my way."

"Billy told me, 'It'll blow over, just don't figure on going home until he's gone for the day.'"

"I was so sick, I was wondering if I was green or anything?"

"No,' Billy said, 'but you smell like a friggin brewery, so just stay in back, I'll take care of out front.'"

"'Okay, but if I get any sicker,' I told him, 'I don't know what will happen?'"

"'No problemo,' Billy told me, 'but you're going to have to stay close, going home right now is not an option.'"

"Anyway, I gargled with some mouthwash and when old man McPherson came back, I guess I passed all right because he just gave me a sort of snitty look, but didn't say anything. He went off to play golf about noon and I went and laid down in the back room and fell asleep for a while."

"Andy came in, he was supposed to work the afternoon shift, but he had been drinking already to kill the hangover he had. Billy was supposed to get off at two, but Andy was in no shape to relieve him and I was still feeling bad so Billy said he would close up for us and we took off.

That stupid Andy forgot to throw his beer cans away and Old man McPherson came back just after closing and found them. Billy had everything finished and was going home and I had come back to make it look like I had been there all day. I brought a couple beers and Billy and I were going to share one. McPherson came storming out into the parking lot, and there's Billy with the beer. He hadn't even taken a drink. McPherson fired him on the spot and didn't say a word to me until Billy left, then McPherson asked me if I knew that Billy was drinking on the job and I said I wasn't sure, but I didn't think so. Billy had to beg for his job back. That's when the old man accused him of stealing. There was always money missing, not much, but I guess enough for the old man to notice. We knew it was Andy all along, but we never ratted on him. McPherson made Billy work for two weeks for nothing, otherwise he wouldn't give him his job back. Red Pine was a small town and that job was about the only one that was decent, so Billy didn't have any choice. He put up with a lot, especially Andy and I screwing around all the time."

"While Billy was away in Vietnam, McPherson built a brand new store, about five times bigger; a real full service operation. When Billy got back, it was by far the best job within fifty miles. Billy came back to work, but while he was gone, I was made assistant manager in charge of the Sporting Goods and Andy had taken over the Hardware Dept. Billy ended up working for us and we weren't very nice to him. I mean, looking back, we were still kind of fuck ups, not as bad as high school, but Andy was still skimming a few bucks and I didn't work as hard as I could have. I'm finding out now that in the two years Billy was gone; he matured and did incredible things, while we just enjoyed life.

"The worst thing that happened to Billy," Manny continued, "was the Tri-town Golf Tournament. After Billy quit working at the store because he got tired of our bullshit so he went to work at the golf course. He worked on the maintenance crew and the course superintendent loved him. He started working in the spring and worked on his golf game all that summer. I don't think he had played for a couple of years because of the Marines, but he got his game back fast and was playing really well and on Labor Day week, there is a Tri-town Tourney."

"Billy, Andy McPherson and I were in the championship flight. I had won my second match, and was to play the winner of the match between Billy and Andy. Andy was the crowd favorite, but I didn't think he had a chance. I knew I could beat Andy, but didn't think I could beat Billy, so I was pulling for Andy too. The whole town was at that tourney, watching that match and we were such snobs, no one even offered to caddie for Billy. Andy was pulling the match out of his butt because he chipped in three times and sunk two long putts and they came to the eighteenth even. Andy hit a bad drive into the rough on the left side and Billy hit a great shot up the right, into this open spot just in the rough. From there it was an easy shot to the green. One of Andy's friends was standing right where Billy's ball stopped and he picked it up and put it in his pocket. It was just this little group of Andy's friends standing there when Billy came up to find his ball. No one copped to what had happened and Billy had to take a two shot penalty for a lost ball and lost the match right there. I found out what happened a little later, but I didn't say anything because Billy had already left the course. Billy left town about a week later, and no one saw him again for, oh I don't know, probably twenty years. I guess he came back once, just to look around."

Manny turned away, quiet for a moment. "He got thrown in jail because of us." Manny told Mark the story, admitting to the whole thing. He also showed Mark the trial transcript.

"That son-of-a-bitch had the balls to do this?" Mark raised his voice, holding the transcript up to Manny, shaking it.

"Pretty sad, huh? It gets even worse. Cassey Miller was his girlfriend. Cassey and Billy had been together since freshman in high school. She was really beautiful, intelligent, and kind. I was a little jealous, but Andy, Bueler and some of the other guys were really infatuated with her. While Billy was in Vietnam, we used to bring up the baby killing and all that. Anything we could to make the soldiers look bad, to make her forget Billy. I don't know what worked, but after Billy had been gone for about three months, just after he got wounded the first time, Cassey started hanging around me and I was thrilled. I was floating on top of the world and I started dreading Billy coming back because I thought it would be over with Cassey. We got close and a couple of months before Billy came home, we were lovers, and Cassey just stuck with me. I was terrified that she would dump me and go back to Billy, but he didn't seem all that upset when he found out, and Cassey figured that he didn't care about her enough, so I ended up with the girl."

"Were you proud of yourself?"

"Hell no! Look, I don't know how I felt. I was scared shitless though. Andy McPherson said Billy was just waiting for the right time to cut my throat, to get Cassey back."

"What made you think you were worth his time?"

"Oh, after a while I stopped worrying, but when you're in love it's really important to you at the time."

"So for a little fling, you stabbed your best friend in the back."

"Look, I know what you're thinking, but in my defense Cassey came to me first and she is a wonderful lady. I'm still married to her today."

"Well, that is a touching story. How does this Cassey feel about what you're doing?"

"Well, like she told me, she became a good wife and mother. According to her it was her duty, ergo, no fault of hers what happened to Billy, but she sympathizes and supports my mission."

"Your mission, is that some kind of attempt to impress me, the military talk?"

"Oh no, Geez, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be a smart-ass. I don't know why I said that. I guess it does feels like a mission though, trying to find out what made Billy's life fail."

"Well, fuckin duh! You take a guy's integrity, something he earned the hard way and deny him the respect he deserved and you wonder why his life gets screwed up. You get him put in jail on a trumped up charge and then you wonder how 'he' failed himself. Do you have any idea how it must have felt for him to be incarcerated, especially wrongfully? You come whining to me, wondering, what happened to him? You and your worthless friends are what happened to him! What a bunch of assholes you people were. It must have been great to be so privileged. Do you know what we all learned in Vietnam? We learned team work, sticking together. We had to, to stay alive. Then Billy comes home and his friends are jealous and they work against him and they get away with it. Does that answer your question; what happened to Billy Palmer? He performed brilliantly under the worst of situations. He proved himself as a leader and then he had to deal with you smucks. Can you imagine how he must have felt, trapped, having to take orders from you clowns?"

"I—" Manny started to make an excuse, but Mark cut him off.

"No, I don't imagine you could. Now you come crawling to me for absolution. Geez, I'm so sorry about what I did, I didn't know. Bullshit Mr. Anderson, you're here to make yourself feel good! You don't give a shit about Billy, never did. You're not sophisticated enough for that. You don't have to look him in the face and apologize, do you? No, he's not around anymore. The best you can do is stand over his grave and say, Geez I'm reeeaaaally sorry, that we were dumb fucks, but we just didn't understand."

"Why don't you make sure your pretty wife is there too? So she can tell Billy she is also sorry, sorry that she ended up with your sorry ass, instead of a real man. You know what a hero is, do you sport? It's someone that does what no one else has the guts to. It's someone that takes the responsibility for everyone else and doesn't expect anything in return."

"I guess I deserve that," Manny said, his head down.

"Damn right you do!" Mark said, staring intently at Manny, "But, it's too late for an appeal, and all the tears in the world will make no difference. You expected to come here, spill your guts, shed a few tears for effect, and then have me absolve your guilt. But, I will not do that because it is way beyond my capabilities. You are a selfish man, Mr. Anderson, you always were and always will be. What do you really want from me?"

"I don't know!" Manny shouted, throwing his hands up. He turned around, walked to the window, looking out frustrated. "I keep thinking I'm doing this for my son Donny, he's in the Army now, Air Cavalry, but I don't know?"

"Donny, smonny," Tainer scolded, "you're bored with life and Billy Palmer and his story excite you. The more you find out, the more you want to know."

"Is that wrong? Am I such a horrible man?"

"See, you're just typical. Again it goes back to you! You're only worried about what I think of you."

"I guess I do?"

"Why?"

"Because I respect you," Manny said, looking around the office.

"That my friend, is a load of crap! I saw you looking around, judging me by what I've got. Do you respect the man I've become, or do you respect how I got here? Then again, maybe none of the above. You might just be jealous, just like you were with Billy. It has nothing to do with how I got here, nothing at all to do with who I am. You made the same mistake with Palmer. Manny, the turmoil is in your head. Was it a mistake; the way you judged Billy, or is it how you really are?"

"You tell me, you're the expert on recognizing and appointing guilt."

"Look Manny, I'm not jumping your ass because I think you're an especially terrible person." Tainer said calmly. "We are a fucked up species, and I think you are just starting to realize why."

"I rather doubt that. The more I think I know, the more I realize just how stupid I am."

"There, now you're finally getting somewhere. I'll tell you a little secret, let you off the hook a little. We are simply a product of our emotions, all of us. We have created this unbelievable technology, machines even doing our thinking for us and what happens? Our most important decisions are based on how we feel at the time. We're just another dumb animal, governed by fear, jealousy, envy, sadness, happiness, all the same motivation my dog lives by, all just instincts. We can claim we're above all that, that we're superior, just deny it, but in the end, they're the driving force in our lives."

"Can I say something, something that will undoubtedly piss you off?" Manny asked.

"Go right ahead."

"Of course you're right about almost everything. I've felt and acted exactly as you say. I don't appreciate the harshness you presented it with, but I've matured enough to accept a little criticism now and then. But, regardless of what my reasons are now, and I don't really know myself, I'd hoped that you being so close to Billy you would have the decency of at least helping me in my quest. Billy was forgotten, and maybe I can do something to rectify that. I can't do anything about the past, but I can sure do something about the future, and my son's well-being is important to me, as well as the little woman."

"God-damn Manny, I was wondering if you were going to stand up to the shit-beating or not?"

"What, you figured I'd walk out the door because you hurt my feelings?"

"I was hoping not, but most people would have."

"And?"

"You would have gotten nothing further from me."

"How the hell did you get so mean?"

"Mean, in my business you have to yank on peoples chains to get the best out of them. If you coddle them, they think you're accepting their lousy work and figure they don't have to do anything more. I raise hell with them so they try, and try, and try to appease me. You wouldn't believe how that can get the creative juices flowing."

"I think Billy was trying to write a book."

"Was he now? I'd like to see that because he had a complex mind. A Vietnam book?"

"Boy, you know, I couldn't say."

"How did you know he was writing?"

"He approached me and a couple of the guys about buying into what he was working on."

"What did you think of his work?"

"I don't know, I never read it. One of the guys was in advertising and he said it was ridiculous to buy into a book, said it was a silly way to invest."

"That so? Some big money in the story business. For some reason people like to be entertained, and they even pay, go figure huh? I'd like to see whatever you can find, maybe he had something. And Manny, have you ever been to the Wall in Washington?"

"No, that's where I'm headed now."

"Got some names here," Mark reached for a pad and wrote down a list of names, then handed it to Manny. "It'll be interesting to see what your first impression might be. And Manny, what you're missing, why you're trying so hard to understand is you have never been tested, so you don't know how you'll react under pressure. We all wonder, you know, and only a few of us ever get put in a situation to find out. That's the little thing that separates the warrior from the rest."

Chapter 9

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Manny mumbled, sitting in the back seat of a Washington D.C. cab, looking out the window. All he can see of the city is mostly obscured by heavy falling snow.

"It is not a good day to go sightseeing, I do agree with you Sir," the cab driver replied in a heavy middle-eastern-accent.

"Oh, I wouldn't be stupid enough to go sightseeing on a day like this," Manny said, thinking of defending his appearance as a rational American. "This is more of a request,—no,—more like an order."

"Some person makes you to go to that strange wall."

"Strange, why would you say that?" Manny was more curious than annoyed by the comment.

"In this great country of America, you pay such a small price for so much. In my country everybody is in war, and a wall like that would be to honor those that lived, not those that were lost."

"Welcome to America," Manny said cynically.

"Yes, it is great place, especially on day like this. In my country, getting warm on day like this would be very difficult."

Manny guessed that explained why it was blazing hot in the cab, the driver luxuriating in it. Manny was certain deodorant and soap where also in short supply in this man's homeland. He was almost relieved when the cabbie announced that they had arrived at a good spot for him to walk to the memorial. The snow was coming down even heavier, but the temperature was not as cold as he was used to in Red Pine, and there was no wind. Huge flakes fell straight down out of the slate gray sky.

*

Manny started toward the wall, taking the direction the cab driver had indicated. The snow, six inches deep, covered everything and he had no idea if he was on a path or not. Manny walked through some trees and came to a small slope. Down below he could make out a long black ribbon rising out of the snow. He walked down the slope and moved abreast of the monument, the full wall appearing out of the gloom. He noted it's sloping shape, the highest part meeting in the middle to his right. He was standing where the stone began, only six inches high, then rose gradually to the center where it was ten feet tall. He turned to face the wall, stooped down and saw names etched deep into the black stone. He looked to his left, toward the middle, noting that the number of names increased as the stone got taller.

"Geez, you dumb ass," Manny said to himself. "You don't even know how the names are arranged."

Manny looked around hoping to spot someone, but It looked like he was absolutely alone. "Had to pick a time when there was no one around to help, didn't ya," Manny said to himself as he continued down the Wall, just looking over the names as it grew in height, not really reading them. He had a list of five names that Tainer had given him, five guys that Billy had known, now nothing more than a name and a memory on this wet, black obelisk. He had walked almost the entire length of the wall, passing the middle, then down the other side until he had gotten to where the wall was low again. He glanced up a path leading away from the monument, saw a concrete pedestal and headed for it. On the pedestal was a book under a Plexiglas cover with names followed by towns and cities listed. He lifted the cover, conscious of the snow falling on the pages, but he suspected that the book was always maintained, so he looked for the names on his list. The book also explained the order of the names. They were on the wall chronologically, from the time of death. The killing spree started at the center, the highest part of the monument and moved down the slope to the right, to the bottom of that wing and then flipped way over to the left wing, continuing at the bottom, moving up, ending at the center, the junction that formed the two angles of the stone wall.

Manny found all the names in the book which was in alphabetical order. After each name the location on the wall was listed. All the names he sought were on panel eleven, lines eight through fourteen.

Manny walked back down to the wall and found the eleventh panel and then the names. He looked to his left and a short distance away, no more than ten feet, was the joint in the wall. There, eleven panels away, the first casualties of the Vietnam war were listed. His eyes moved from panel one, back over panel eleven, just skimming, estimating the numbers by the amount of space they took up. His eyes passed panel eleven and then continued down toward the end of the wall as it tapering off to nothing, sliding out of existence into the snow.

He was thinking back to what Billy had told him; about the war being a bunch of crap, not worth the lives they were losing. That it was being fought all wrong because our leaders weren't even trying to win, etc. Mark Tainer's words came to him as he stepped back a few paces and looked to his left, where the other wing of the wall appeared out of the snow and gradually rose to the middle to meet the right wing, the one with panel eleven on it, the whole time one thought kept going through Manny's mind.

"Those fuckers!" he exclaimed out loud. "They knew it here," Manny pointed to eleven, straight in front of where he stood, "and did nothing about it as all these guys," Manny moved his hand down the wall, to the right, stepping back as he went. He got to the end of the right side and turned back the other way quickly, sticking out his left hand to point to the far start of the wall, moving it quickly back to the center. "Died for nothing!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, swinging his arm past his body, twisting around one hundred and eighty degrees until he was facing away from the wall. Manny stood there, looking straight ahead, the snow falling on his bare head. Off in the distance he could see a figure watching him. It looked like a woman, but it was hard to tell. He stood looking at the person, wanting whoever it might be to come the rest of the way so he could tell someone, anyone, what he had discovered. It dawned on him that everyone that came to this place with a name, probably went away with the same feeling of disgust that was coursing through his body.

"Whoever designed this sure did their job, huh?" Manny shouted to the person watching him through the falling snow. There was no response, so Manny turned, looked at the wall one more time and walked away. As he was ascending the slight slope, he turned as he walked and saw the unknown person now descending toward the memorial.

"Probably thinks I'm some deranged SOB. Can't blame them a bit," Manny said quietly, the snow soaking up the sound of his voice.

*

Manny stood in the deepening snow at the edge of the street, slowly shaking his head deep in thought, as a cab came driving up the street. Manny was so lost in his thoughts he didn't perceive the cab pulling up to him. Sensing he was not alone he looked up and then it registered; it was the same cab. His first thought was to let this one go, he wasn't cold, just numb from the experience, but the driver sat there, waiting for him to decide. The passenger window of the cab slid down and the driver leaned over.

"You might be only business for the day, Sir," the cabby said quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"You saw the name of a loved one there?"

Manny hesitated, Loved one? Billy's name wasn't there, but what was Billy to him?

I guess I had loved Billy once, but certainly not when it counted.

"I saw some names that told me more about myself than I care to admit," Manny confessed, reaching for the door handle.

"That black stone is very powerful, Sir. I have seen many come back as you have."

"Is that why you waited for me?"

"It is a slow day, Sir."

Manny didn't say anything as he got in the car, but he knew the driver was sensitive to what the meaning of the wall was and how it affected people.

"Did they treat soldiers in your country bad like that?" Manny asked as he gestured back with his head, back toward the park.

"Much worse, Sir, much worse. I see America as a place that learns her lessons. Sir that is why I am here."

"Thank you very much. I learned a lot today. I appreciate you looking out for me."

"It is just my job, Sir."

Chapter 10

"Manny Anderson, haven't seen you in a long time," Gwen, Billy's sister said, holding open the door to her house. "Come on in, I was surprised when Tom said you had called and wanted to come down here. I'll bet it's cold as hell back in Red Pine. I miss the seasons, but not the cold," she said as she walked into the kitchen. "I'll never regret moving to San Antonio."

"It's a lot nicer here this time of the year, for sure," Manny replied, seeing Gwen's husband Tom sitting at the table.

"Yeah, we like it," Gwen continued. "It can get a little hot in the summer, but everything is air conditioned, so we make it okay. It's a little strange at Christmas, but with all the kids gone, what the heck."

"How the heck you doing Tom? It's good to see you again," Manny said as he shook Tom's hand and then took an empty chair at the table.

"Not bad Manny," Tom returned. "I didn't expect you to get here so soon though, but it's good to see you. Hell, it's got to be twenty years since Gwen and I were back up there. How are things for you back in the land of killer Mosquitoes?"

"Not bad, winters too long and too hard, same old stuff."

"How's your golf game these days?" Tom asked. "I hardly play anymore, back's not too good."

"Not bad, actually, I'm still playing to a two, but one of these years I will have to accept the inevitable."

"So, what does bring you to Texas, Manny?" Gwen asked.

"I understand that Billy left some stuff with you? Anyway, that's what Tom told me."

"Yeah, he was trying to write a book," Gwen said without any excitement.

"I heard about that," Manny responded. "He asked me one time if I could help him try to get it published. That was some time ago though, and I kind of blew him off."

"Yeah, a long time ago," Gwen returned. "It was just a lot of gibberish. I read some of it, and it was a waste of time, too many mistakes."

"Oh come on Gwen, there was some good stuff in there," Tom countered.

"Oh Tom, those Vietnam vets were a pain in the ass, all of them. Expected everyone to have sympathy on them, because they served," Gwen snarled.

"Gwen, Billy never bothered you for anything," Tom scolded her. "You're just bitter because of Campbell, because 'he' put you through a lot."

"A lot!" Gwen cried. "I wasted ten years of my life on that bum. Boy was he screwed up. Nothing but a drunk and a druggy, and I'll tell you, he wasn't that way before he went over there, guaranteed. That war really fucked him up."

"The war didn't screw him up," Tom returned. "Hell, he didn't ever go out in the field. I know for a fact; he spent his whole time in the rear killing his brain cells, doing drugs."

"Billy was no better, he didn't do anything with his life, did he?" Gwen sneered.

"Well, you and your family sure didn't make it easy for him," Tom said

"I can't believe you're trying to blame—" Gwen said defensively.

"Folks please!" Manny interrupted. "I didn't come here to try to focus any blame. I just would like to see the things he wrote. Can I see the stuff you've got?"

"I guess. I'll go look for it," Gwen said leaving the room.

"Don't tell her I told you," Tom whispered, "but she borrowed some money from Billy and was supposed to edit that writing for him, but never got around to it. I read quite a bit of it and I've got to tell you, I thought some of it was damn good. There's one story I really liked."

"About Vietnam?" Manny questioned.

"No, no, there was nothing about the war. Fiction stories, and like I said some of it was interesting. I feel sad about old Billy, he wasn't a bad guy at all. He never caused us any trouble, but it was just that Gwen went through so much shit with Campbell. She really tried to make that marriage work. She just couldn't accept that the problem was Campbell himself, and just blamed the war. In her head everyone involved in that fiasco was lumped into the same boat."

"You had a brother that was there, didn't you?" Manny asked Tom.

"Yeah, Stan."

"He came back okay?"

"Oh yeah, he's a great guy. Shit, a hell of a lot more normal than most people I know. You know Billy came through here one time. He was looking for work and I wanted to hire him, but Gwen raised hell, so to keep the peace I didn't go through with it. Billy knew he wasn't wanted and left the next day," Tom said.

"I'm finding out that a lot of people looked the other way when it came to him," Manny returned.

"I wonder why, it didn't make sense to me?" Tom said.

"The jail thing, and then he was gone for a long time." Manny kind of shrugged. "When he did come back, he didn't have anything, so people just assumed he had gone bad."

"Yeah, I can still see Billy getting off that bus here in San Antonio, a tiny, little bag in his hand. He looked so sad. Something bad had happened, I could tell, but I couldn't get it out of him? I never did understand how he got in all that trouble years before. I never heard of him hurting anyone, except that idiot Bueler. Old Billy was always funnier than hell and so easy going."

"We all lied about that Tom, and I was as much to blame as anyone."

"Jesus Manny!"

"I know, I look back, and I am not proud of myself."

"Talk about looking back? It was strange, his family didn't care much about him, and I'll never understand that. You know, his dad was a fairly good guy, but he had this thing about Billy. I never could figure out why? Lots of Gwen's opinion is based on that. Billy's mother went with the old man too."

*

Gwen came back with a box filled with papers. Manny picked some out and looked through what he had in his hand. "Boy, there's a lot of writing here."

"It's nothing but junk, I tell yeah," Gwen said.

"Do you mind if I take this, I'll bring it back?" Manny asked.

"Nah, keep it, I have no use for it," Gwen said.

"I guess I'm wondering why you didn't attend the funeral?" Manny asked.

"Many people there?" Gwen countered.

"No, just Cassey and I."

"Cassey, Cassey Miller?" Gwen returned.

"Yes."

"You two got married, right?" Gwen said, accusingly.

"Yeah."

"Still?"

"Still married? Yes."

"The two of you, his ex-best friend and his ex-girlfriend. How romantic," Gwen said with the accusing tone.

"At least we went!" Manny exclaimed, a little angrily.

"I had three day's notice, and in case you can't figure it out," Gwen returned, also angry, "it was a long way to go. I don't know what you do for money, but Tom and I have to watch what we spend?"

"Very pragmatic of you," Manny stated.

"Billy was very pragmatic, as I'm sure you knew." Gwen stood glaring at Manny. "Do you think he would have approved?"

Manny hesitated, not wanting to continue the argument. "Yes, he would have understood," he said quietly.

"Look, Manny, I appreciate your going to my brother's funeral, but we just weren't a close family," Gwen said calmly with a sad voice. "I hadn't seen him in years. What the hell difference would it have made to Billy, if I was there or not?"

"Not much that I can see," Manny said, shaking his head.

"Don't get prissy with me!" Gwen shouted. "You guys were always together when you were kids, and then after he comes back, nothing. I heard all the stuff about you and that tramp Cassey going out behind Billy's back. Great home coming he had. Comes home and his girlfriend is shacking up with his best friend. I guess you couldn't be friends anymore, huh? Gee, I wonder why? Sounds like you needed to be at the funeral more than I did."

"I'm just trying to—" Manny hesitated.

"Trying to what? You know Manny, what's done is done, and I appreciate what you think you're trying to do. It may sound noble, but just admit you're doing it for yourself, so don't try to bullshit me, okay. And tell Cassey, I said thanks for going to the funeral." Gwen spun on her heels and walked away.

*

Tom saw Manny out to the car. "Look Manny, between you and I, I'm sorry about Billy. Like I already said, he was an okay guy, but you know how convoluted family dynamics can be and when the fix is in, it just is."

"Yeah, it's just that after it's too late, where do you go to get it right in your own head?" Manny asked, shaking Tom's hand.

Chapter 11

Manny was sitting at his desk in his office, staring out the window. The phone rang and he picked it up.

"Manny," Cassey said on the other end, "I've been sorting through that writing you gave me, that stuff you got from Billy's sister. How come you never read any of this? Didn't you say Billy came to you about it?"

"Not me directly, he talked to Frank Nesbit. Billy thought that because Frank was doing copyright he might know something?"

"Did Frank read any of this?"

"Geez, I don't know? Frank just said that it was a waste of time. There was no money to be made from an unknown author. I think that's what he said because it was a long time ago? What's up, anything good?"

"Good? I'm no expert Manny, but this one story I'm cleaning up is really something. It's called Timtown. Some kid called Tim finds an alien base that's abandoned, but it's still chewggling along. It's run by a computer that the kid calls Mr. V, Mr. Voice. I'm just a quarter of the way through, but I can't put it down. Billy was quite the writer, Manny. I'm fixing it as I go and I should have a cleaned up copy by tomorrow. You have got to read this. This story would make a hell of a movie."

"No kidding!" Manny sat forward. "I never figured Billy to be a writer, he never did any when we were hanging around."

"Well, he sure as hell figured it out somewhere along the way. When you getting home?"

"Not too much longer, I've got a couple of things to wrap up. I located that guy that put Billy and Tainer in for the medal, and guess what?"

"Oh, oh, you're happy about something. Could it be this requires a trip to, let's say, a warm climate."

"Florida Babe, about as warm as it gets."

*

Manny was sitting enjoying the fire he had built in their large stone fireplace. "This is about the only thing I can really say I enjoy about winter, a good stiff drink and a roaring fire," Manny said to Cassey, as she walked in carrying a stack of papers.

"Here's the first six chapters, good reading," Cassey said, giving Manny the stack of papers. She had a proud, accomplished look on her face.

"That was quick, you must have put some work into this?"

"Not really, Billy had it all pretty much together. I just had to figure out where, and there it all was."

Manny started reading, the clock on the fireplace mantle said 6:34.

*

At 8:51, Manny got to the last page and put the manuscript down. He got up and walked into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator getting something to drink. He closed the refrigerator and went out of the kitchen, heading to the rear of the house. He walked into Cassey's office, next to their bedroom. Manny stood watching Cassey work at the computer, scanning pages into the machine.

"Got any more?" Manny asked.

Cassey turned part way around, still working as she spoke. "What'd you think?"

"You didn't change anything, it was that way, the story?"

"I edited typing errors, some grammar, many spelling errors, but didn't change a thing."

"Wow!" Manny said. "I don't know what to say. I mean, I'm no expert either, except that I like to read and I appreciate a good book, but I am truly amazed. Billy really came up with something, huh?"

"That's what I'm thinking, and it gets even better. I've got two more chapters finished."

"All right lady!" Manny exclaimed.

*

The clock on the mantle read 2:58 A.M, the fire was out, and Manny was still sitting, reading, when Cassey walked into the room, stretched and yawned. "Damn Manny, you still at it?"

"Me, I don't see you turning in yet?"

"I'm going to have to. I won't be able to finish it until I get at least a little sleep. You going in this morning?"

"I don't know, how many more chapters you got?"

"I'm through with chapter 26, about ten more to go, but I'm getting bleary eyed. Anymore and I'll start making too many mistakes. Pretty damn good huh?"

"Fabulous story, what an imagination. Billy sure knew how to put a story together. I'm going to send this off to Mark Tainer as soon as you're done. It'll be interesting to see what a professional thinks."

"I wonder if Billy ever got a copyright for this story?" Cassey asked. "Who would own it at this point?"

"I have no idea, but I can check with Slauson, our legal eagle, he should know how to find out. I would imagine his closest relatives. Shit, wouldn't that be something, those buggers getting rich off Billy after they treated him like that."

Chapter 12

Manny was sitting in the kitchen opening up a can of dog food, the phone cradled between his chin and shoulder, waiting. George of the Jungle, the Anderson's dog, was sitting patiently his tail swishing quietly on the tile floor. George was a big—Multinational—as Manny described him to people that asked. "He's one part Afghan, one part Irish Wolfhound, one part German Shepherd, and one part ugly," Manny was fond of saying. "Best damn dog I've ever known," he would also throw in.

George was more dedicated to Cassey than Manny, but that was to be expected because Cassey took George with her everywhere she went. George of the Jungle wandered into the Anderson's back yard, years before, a scraggly, under nourished bag of bones that couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. Manny and Cassey had no idea—at the time—just how big the dog was going to get.

"Yeah, this is Manny Anderson for Mark Tainer. Yes, I see. No, that's all right, just leave a note that I called and that I sent him some material, and it should be arriving in the next couple of days. No, it's not unsolicited, he asked me to send it. Could you put on the note that I found the material to be fascinating. Yes, Anderson, Manny, no I'm not an author. Yes, thank you, have a nice day."

*

Manny was dialing the phone again, watching George play in the snow outside. It was a sunny, bright, winter wonderland out in the back yard, and George was racing around, running with his muzzle deep in the snow, looking like a big shaggy, four legged snow plow.

"Shit, I hope he remembers where everything is, that could hurt if he runs into something solid." Manny chuckled to Cassey, as she walked up and looked out the window.

"Oh, look, it's so pretty out there," she said, looking at Manny

"Looks great from where I'm standing," Manny agreed.

"I'm going skiing in a bit, want to join me?"

"Nah, it's good for my heart and I promised myself to avoid those things."

"You smuck, I go golfing with you."

"You like to play golf, and I don't care to 'work' at my skiing. Give me a big hill and I'll be right there with you."

"Last time we down hilled, you couldn't walk for a week," Cassey chuckled.

"Loved every minute of it though." Manny looked back outside. "That's it you big, dumb, dodo, enjoy yourself!" Manny yelled at the dog. George heard him through the glass and stopped, looking at Manny attentively, snow covering his muzzle, his tail wagging furiously. "You knuckle head, you don't know any better do yeah?" Manny shouted at the dog.

"I don't what?" a man asked, suddenly on the other end of the phone line.

"Oh hello," Manny responded. "Oh sorry, I was talking to my dog. Dumb bugger doesn't have a care in the world, even likes playing in the snow. Can you imagine that?"

"The snow can be fun, sometimes, I guess," the man on the other end returned.

"Spoken like a man in Florida," Manny laughed. "Mr. Walsh, my name is Manny Anderson and I would like to talk to you about Vietnam. If that would be okay?"

"Ah, do I know you?"

"No, I'm sure you don't, but I promise, I'm not a reporter or anything like that. I ya. . .I'm u for Marines that possibly knew a friend of mine, and your name came up. You were a Marine Lieutenant, Feb. 1967 to June 67, 2nd Battalion 5th Marines?

"Yes, I was Hotel Company, 2nd Platoon leader. What's this about?"

"I was wondering if you could spare me some time? I'm interested in finding out about a buddy of mine, he served with you."

"What is his name?"

"Was, I attended his funeral a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, ah, I don't know what to say?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

"I don't see why not, what was his name?"

"Would it be any trouble if I came to you, Minnesota is the shits this time of the year and I need an excuse to see Florida. I promise, this is on the up and up. Billy Palmer is the name."

"Palmer?" Walsh was quiet for a long moment. "The name Palmer doesn't ring any bells. I'm sorry. I hate to waste your time, it's a long way to come for nothing. Were you in the service?"

"No, but my son is. You wouldn't be wasting my time, really. Do you play golf?"

"Oh yeah, golf and I have a love—hate relationship going."

"Ah, a comrade in arms. I'll spring for the golf, if you don't mind?"

"I guess, come on down. I'd be happy to meet with you, but I've got to warn you I take my golf serious."

"Wouldn't expect any less Mr. Walsh."

"You can call me Dan, seems were going to be golfing buddies."

Chapter 13

A taxi pulled up to the club drop at an expensive looking golf course, and Manny opened the passenger's side rear door and stepped out into the warm Florida sunshine. Manny had a big smile on his face as he breathed in the damp, warm air. He headed toward the rear of the cab, meeting the driver there at the trunk.

"You can't imagine how great this feels," Manny said, stretching his arms out to take in the warmth of the sun.

"Come from someplace cold, I take it?" the Cabbie said friendly.

"Frostbite Falls, Minnesota," Manny replied

"Rocky and Bullwinkle! I thought that was a made up place," the cab driver replied.

"It was an opportunity sorely missed," Manny declared. "You'd know what I mean, if you've ever been up there in the winter."

"Cutbank Montana," the Cabbie announced, "you're not telling me anything I don't know."

"I heard that's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there." Manny quipped, as the cab driver took the clubs out of the truck and handed them to Manny."

"Every time I here that, I do think of good old Cutbank. Enjoy the time you have in paradise," the driver said, as Manny handed him a tip and nodded.

An average height man dressed in golf clothes was walking toward him.

"Could you be Manny Anderson, the famous Minnesota golfer?" the man asked.

"That would be me."

"Well, we've got a hell of a day for it. I hope you brought some talent. Dan Walsh," he replied as he held out his hand to shake.

"I had some before the snow banks swallowed my ball," Manny returned, as they shook hands. "I'm probably a little rusty, but it'll come around after a few holes."

"I hope you don't mind me picking this place? It's a little pricey, but a damn good course."

"Oh no, I was thrilled. I've seen this place in the golf magazines and I don't mind paying for pleasures like this," Manny said excitedly, as they headed up the sidewalk, bordered with deep-green, luscious plants, topped with brilliant flowers standing three feet high. "Thank you for seeing me."

"I don't know if I can help you, it was a long time ago, and I have racked my brain and I still don't remember any Palmer." Dan Walsh held the door open to let Manny through into a posh, expensive looking club house. "I guess you must be serious though, coming all this way and springing for a day here."

"I'm on sort of a mission, and the telephone or email just isn't any fun, not like this anyway."

"They're convenient though."

"Not all the time. A guy I know fell in love with a three hundred pound woman that passed herself off as quit the opposite."

"I guess face to face has some security to it," Dan agreed.

"Besides, what better way to spend a day?" Manny was all smiles as they entered the pro shop. "Especially after what I've been enduring the last few weeks."

"I was sorry to hear about your friend. I have to admit though, it's been a long time since I've really thought about Vietnam. Time does heal the worst of wounds."

*

Manny and Dan Walsh were out on the driving range warming up for the round. Manny was hitting, Dan Walsh watching.

"You play a pretty good game of golf, huh Manny?"

"We haven't got to the course yet."

"Oh, I can tell by the swing, you've been playing for a long time."

"Been playing since I was a kid. Played a lot with Billy."

"This Billy Palmer played golf?"

"Yeah, he was damn good. He could usually beat me?"

"Imagine that. I didn't take the game up until after I came back so I never thought about any of the guys being golfers. You mentioned you had a son in the Army, does he play?"

"No, not much. Donny is a water-skier and golf and water-skiing don't mix. The skiing pulls the arms and shoulders making them longer. Now Danny—my other son—he was serious about his golf so he didn't water-ski, but Donny loved to ski, so didn't take his golf seriously."

"I'm not quite sure how to start," Manny continued as he changed clubs from his bag. "I'm not sure if you want to go back. It must have been a rough time?"

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago, and I've never had any real problems with it, just sad sometimes. Many guys suffered for the stupidity of the whole thing. I'm kind of glad that the truth took as long as it did to really come out. I had a chance to mellow, otherwise who knows how I would have felt, or done, if McNamara had of admitted what he did within a couple of years after that fiasco."

"Well, I'm looking for guys that served with Billy Palmer?"

Welsh looked at Manny with a doubting expression, then leaned on his club with both arms, thinking for a while. "Gosh, I've tried and tried, but the name just doesn't compute."

"I was under the impression that you were in the Duc Duc area on June 13, 1967."

"Duc Duc, yeah, that rings a bell. I've got to tell you though, I don't recall any Billy Palmer. Um, June 13, the 13th." Dan had a serious look on his face. "You know, the 13th was kind of a bad day."

"Yes, I understand that. You were seriously wounded?"

"Yup, I was. Lost most of my men too, but there was no Palmer, I'm sure of it. Maybe he was one of the guys that got to us?"

"I think there's a good explanation why the name is unfamiliar," Manny smiled, "Billy was a sniper."

Dan Walsh straightened up, abruptly, a surprised look on his face. "He was one of the shooters!" he exclaimed.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"The sniper team! They're the only reason I'm sitting here talking to you. They saved our lives. This Palmer, Billy? How did you trace him to me?

"You put him up for a medal."

"Yes, yes, I never found out his name though, the sniper teams didn't like to advertise. I guess the NVA were putting rewards on their heads. Billy Palmer—wow—Billy Palmer, he was the one huh? I saw him after it was all over. Just for a moment, when they were putting me on the chopper. These two guys came up to look me over. You could tell they weren't regular Jar Heads. They looked like they had been living in the jungle for months. I didn't realize what had happened, until I was trying to explain it to a corpsman. He said that a sniper-team had been there and they had shot up the NVA attacking us. It was all a blur at first, but when I was in the hospital it all made sense. Do you know the name of the other guy, there were two of them?"

"Mark Tainer, I just visited him up in New York. I have his address and numbers if you'd like. He's the one that put me on to you."

"Hell yes! This Tainer, he's alive and well?"

"Yeah, he's alive and well enough to chew the shit out of me. Could you tell me about it; what happened that day?"

"Oh gosh, let me think about it. Ah, I'm not sure if I can be all that accurate, but I'll try. Ah, um, we were on a search and destroy, and my platoon was to circle around a village and set up a blocking force. I was hoping that we wouldn't have any contact that day. I had three brand new men, they didn't even have jungle boots yet. Jungle boots had treads, the regular issue boots had smooth bottoms and were a bitch in the slippery mud. I'm not sure what happened, but we came out of the jungle on this trail, and all hell broke loose. We were cut off."

*

Lt. Walsh screams at his men, as the incoming bullets tear into the ground and the edge of the jungle next to the path they are on. Some of his men are already hit, he can hear the screaming, but he has no idea how many, or how bad. As he tries to reach his fallen comrades, the enemy fires ferociously into his position, the snapping bullets hurting his ears, shredding everything above the ground, violent geysers of mud and water everywhere. The jungle they have just came out of is full of flashes, and he knows the only way to go is in the opposite direction; if there is any hope of getting out of the ambush. He can't believe that they walked right through the enemy like that without noticing anything. He figures there must be at least twenty NVA firing on him and his men.

He and his remaining men, five he can see, have gotten down behind the back of the trail, but they need to do something quickly. He shouts to return fire, but the nose is deafening and he can see that all the men are pinned down. The heavy incoming fire keeps them below the dike. He knows they have to return fire and he pushes his M-16 up over the dike, keeping his head below cover and pulls the trigger. It feels like ten thousand volts hits his hands. He pulls his hands back down and realizes that the M-16 is gone and he is looking at blood.

He looks to his rear and realizes they are at the edge of a grassy hill and on top of the hill sits a small stone temple. The small field is surrounded by jungle and grass covered hills. The enemy fire slows, and he takes stock of his situation. It is getting foggy and starting to rain heavy. He calls to his men and only five respond with gestures only. He senses that they are afraid, like he is and hesitant to reveal their positions by making noise. He is uncertain on what to do. He knows that if they stay where they are, the enemy can sneak right up to them, the dike affording them the cover.

He realizes, if the enemy moves up to the other side, they can just lob grenades over and it will be all over for him and his men. Lt. Walsh takes one of his grenades, pulls the pin and throws it over the dike in the direction of the enemy. He signals his closest man to do the same, then the next man in line to repeat the action. He knows, that at most, his men are carrying two maybe three grenades each and this holding action cannot last long. He sees that his radio operator is still with him and he decides that if they can make the small temple a hundred feet out in the field, there might be a chance to call in artillery. It is their only hope he decides. He moves laterally to each of his men and instructs them of his plan. He is not sure if they will respond to his commands and move out of the cover, but he decides to chance it. He tells each man that it is their only choice, if they stay there, they will die.

He gives the signal and shouts, running hard and low. The five Marines, with their officer, take off running from the dike, turning, firing back into the jungle to the rear as they flee. One Marine goes down, hit as the enemy resumes firing at the retreating Marines. The rest continue to move toward the shelter of the stone temple. Another Marine is hit, a third Marine, the radio operator, stops and turns to help and is hit almost immediately. Only three Marines remain, struggling up the slope.

The Marine that was hit first is not out of action and has turned back toward the jungle, firing until the magazine in his rifle is empty. He is fumbling around, trying to insert another fresh magazine, when a North Vietnamese soldier appears at the edge of the dike. The Marine has the new magazine inserted and raises his M-16 to shoot. There is a loud, "Snap," and the NVA's head explodes and he is driven back into the jungle. The Marine starts shooting at the jungle, but the area around him erupts in sod, mud and grass chunks flung into the air obscuring him.

The three remaining Marines are fifty yards from the temple, Lt. Wash hanging back a bit, looking back to his men that are down. The nearest Marine is lying in a mass of mud and blood, motionless. Sporadic shooting from the jungle is directed at the remaining three Marines. The three sometimes turn to return fire while trying to reach the temple, now only twenty feet ahead. Two NVA appear at the edge of the dike, only showing their heads and shoulders and aiming their rifles at the fleeing Marines. There is another, "Snap," and one of the NVA takes a bullet directly in the face, twitches a moment and is still. The other enemy soldier doesn't realize what has happened to his comrade. He aims at the retreating Marines as they try to reach the temple. A bullet strikes the ground between the second NVA's arms, ricocheting up, blowing a hole in his chest. He tries to stand up, but flops over sideways, rolling into the jungle.

The three remaining Marines reach the temple, the last one, Lt. Walsh, is hit in the back, as the other two men jump behind the safety of the stone. The Lt. is flat on his face and trying to crawl, to get around to the safety of the temple. One of his men reaches out and pulls him behind the stone.

A heavy barrage of small arms fire erupts from the jungle, directed at the stone. The temple is obliterated by flying chips and the ground around it pulverized. The Marines behind the temple stay behind the stone, as a steady stream of bullets strike the stone and surrounding ground. Ten NVA jump over the dike and start toward the temple, firing steadily to keep the Marines pinned. The NVA move in a line up the hill, one aiming at the first Marine that was hit earlier. The enemy soldier is poised to shoot, when there is another loud, "Snap," and he flings his rifle out and spins around, going down hard. His comrades either don't notice or are so intent that they just continue on, firing and progressing up the hill. Another, "Snap," and the NVA, second from the right in the advancing line, jumps back, his legs flying out from under him and flops hard onto his back. The NVA soldier closest to him stops and looks confused. Another, "Snap," and this soldier takes a vicious hit in the upper torso that drives him back, violently. He tries to get to his feet, his hands clamped to his chest, blood spurting through his fingers.

Five more NVA are on the dike, starting over. A light automatic weapon fires a long burst from their left, three of the NVA going down, the other two scrambling back into the protection of the jungle.

The lead NVA out in the field, only fifty feet from the temple goes down to his one knee and fires a sustained rhythm of shots into the stone, keeping the Marines pinned behind the cover. Two NVA start to circle wide, to get a shot around the sides of the stone. Another, "Snap," and the NVA that has moved to the right, grabs his chest, a look of bewilderment on his face. He topples over as another NVA runs up behind him, pulling at his shoulder, turning him around, a bright red splotch growing on his back and side. The second NVA is on one knee, looking around, when there is another, "Snap," and his face disappears in a cloud of bloody spray.

The NVA that has been keeping the Marines pinned, runs out of ammunition and feels frantically for a fresh magazine. Another loud, "Snap, is heard, the NVA pitching back violently, a following boom coming from the grass covered hill, slightly to the right and beyond the small field the temple is in.

The five remaining NVA are confused, looking around, uncertain what to do next. They start toward the temple again, but their rate of fire has decreased. One of the Marines suddenly pokes his head and his M-16 out from behind the temple and fires a long burst at the NVA, taking two of them out, and just as quickly disappearing back behind the stone. One of the remaining NVA, starts yelling, shooting, and running at the temple. He gets about ten feet from the stone, when there is another loud, "Snap," and he appears to run into a brick wall, bouncing back, sitting down hard, and another, "Boom," resounding from the hill. He looks startled and slowly tips over on his side, twitching, a stream of blood spurting out of his chest.

Another Marine pokes out from the temple to fire, but one of the NVA is able to shoot first, hitting the Marine in the upper chest, the Marine going down hard and not moving. The NVA that did the shooting, starts toward the temple, firing paced shots into the stone to keep the two remaining Marines back behind it. The NVA is five feet from getting around and getting a clear shot at the Marines when another loud, "Snap," coincides with his head disintegrating. The body tips forward, starting toward the ground, as another "Boom," emanates from the far jungle. Another NVA rushes forward, and another, "Snap," signals his demise, the following "Boom," coming from the same location in the far off jungle. The last remaining NVA, the one to the left, runs toward the temple, reaching the side of it.

"I was hit really bad, twice actually, and Ellington was the only one left still able to fight." Walsh continued, almost out of breath. "I can't really remember exactly how it went, but Ellington had gone around one of the sides. I'm not sure left or right, and was banging it out with whoever. Screaming, 'Fuckin take this,' or something like that. I was propped up on the back of the stone and turned in the opposite direction of Ellington. I had my forty-five out with my good hand and had it stuck out in front of me. I just remember this NVA, all of a sudden, right there in front of me, that fuckin AK, and I'm looking right down the barrel. I was trying to raise my forty-five and this NVA, just drops, I don't know? I was in bad shape, but I can remember this NVA is hammered, or something like that. One moment he is standing right there, ready to kill me, and the next he is down, and the only memory of that whole war, that really sticks out in my mind, is the 'Ooof' that guy made. It's not clear, but the next thing I know a corpsman is working on me."

"I asked him what had happened and he said we were lucky as shit the shooters had been there? I made out the report and recommended whoever had saved our asses a medal, but I never got the names. I guess the Corps was reluctant to identify the snipers and I didn't press the issue.

"Ellington came to see me in the hospital; he was the only one without a scratch, but he said he had a chunk out of one boot, a gash in his web belt, a magazine with a hole in it, and he was covered in C-rations because two cans in his pack stopped bullets."

Welsh stopped and thought for a moment. "How do you know it was your buddy Palmer? How can you be sure?"

"I just found out he received the silver star for the action you described."

"Just found out? I thought you were friends, how is that possible?"

"Billy never said anything about any medals to us. Never said anything about Vietnam."

"What can you say?" Dan said with a sound of reverence in his voice. "It's not something that anyone can really understand, unless they can say, 'Been there done that, experienced it.'"

"I never figured that the guy," Dan continued, "that saved our lives enjoyed this game. Over there golf was so foreign, so alien to our thoughts. We played football, basketball, baseball, pool, they even had a bowling alley in Da Nang, but golf was a totally exotic thing for me back then."

*

Manny thoroughly enjoyed the day of golf with Walsh. Usually an outing on the golf course took the edge off him and he could go on home, relax and get into bed early. Normally he could also relax in a motel room, but this evening he felt like getting out, traveling a little.

*

Manny checked out, rented a car, and headed north, toward Georgia. He figured to rent a room someplace up there, then reschedule his flight the next day.

How does someone survive that kind of terror? Manny contemplated as he drove down the highway, the story Walsh had told him still fresh in his mind.

How can they continue to function after something like that? Manny was again going over the story Dan Walsh had told him.

"Christ, I'd fold up, I know I would," Manny said to himself. "I don't know how else I'd get through something so intense. What does it take to operate in chaos like that?" The intensity of the narration by the ex-Marine Lieutenant had stimulated something in Manny.

He had seen all the new war movies, the stark reality of Saving Private Ryan had moved him, but hearing the details from someone that had experienced something so terrifying and raw, left Manny with a feeling of being left out. No wonder he never said anything to us about the war. How the hell could he have explained something like that to a bunch of spoiled children like us?

*

He entered the state of Georgia as it got dark, the full moon just rising up from the horizon. Manny left the main highway, opting for the back roads sometime around midnight. The full moon was at its zenith in the night sky, bathing the highway and surrounding landscape with its soft white light. He drove until he came to a long skinny lake, surrounded by trees and small hills. The lake's surface gleamed silver in the moonlight. He turned off onto a small paved road, heading away from the water, heading deeper into the surrounding forest. The road meandered up a valley flanked by large trees and thick brush. He rounded a corner and pulled off into a small overlook on the right side of the road. The ground dropped away from the road.

*

Manny was tired of driving and stopped the car. The heavy growth along both sides of the road looked almost impenetrable. He wasn't sure what he was looking for as he got out of the car and walked over to the thick vegetation. He parted the first layer, a tangle of bushes under the large trees that spread their branches over the road. There was enough of the moons light filtering through the trees for Manny to see a little and he stepped from the road into the forest.

Manny crashed through the thick undergrowth for a few feet and was ready to turn around when he came to a break in the foliage. It wasn't much, but appeared to be a game trail. Manny still had to walk bent over to take advantage of the trail as he continued on. The trail moved off to the left, gradually descending the hill. A hundred feet ahead, the trail reached the bottom of the slope and started gradually up the next hill. The vegetation on the next hill was a little less dense because the many large trees shielded the ground from direct sunlight. Part way up the slope, Manny came to a rock cap, an outcrop of granite forming a large bald spot in the ever encompassing vegetation. Manny detoured a little left, going up the smooth rock. The climbing was harder, the angle was slightly steeper and it was difficult getting solid footing. The smooth cap was coated with a thin film of tiny grains of sand. Manny climbed the outcrop to where it dove back into the earth, and the vegetation took over again. There were larger trees here, the undergrowth less dense, and Manny could see some large rocks protruding up on the crest of the hill.

Manny found a small nitch near the crest of the hill, a spot two feet square, under a large spreading tree. Large rocks standing high behind him formed the top of the hill. From there he could see down the slope to the front, but his sides and rear were protected by the rocks.

Manny made himself comfortable in the rocks, the cold, damp night air surrounding him.

What if they were coming for me here, what could I do? How could I save myself?

"What do I know?" he said out loud.

Nothing you smuck. You're a retail exec, not a lot of experience with anything that counts, now. You're damn lucky you live in such a placid environment, otherwise you would be toast."

Manny huddled under the tree, his knees pulled up tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, looking out into the moonlight, thinking. I wonder if my bow would be any good here? I could probably get a couple of them. Is that what a soldier thinks? I'm not going to make it, so what the hell, I'm going to take as many as I can with me? Is that what being brave is all about? Is that what makes a person charge certain death, being angry about being there? What causes the line to be crossed from scared to angry. I wonder if I would handle it or not?"

Manny contemplated the problem and fantasied about making his stand until he got cold and returned to his car.

Chapter 14

"Hello Manny, I didn't expect to see you so soon," Mark Tainer said, walking into the reception area of his office.

"I hope I'm not infringing on you," Manny said defensively, as he rose up to greet the man, "but I'm headed home from Florida and I decided to swing by here to see if maybe you had just a little time?"

"Got a little this morning, what's on your mind?" Tainer said, heading into his office, Manny following.

"I met with the Lieutenant of that platoon you and Billy saved."

"All in a day's work Manny, have a seat. What did he have to say?"

"He hasn't called you, I gave him your number?"

"I've got a pile of messages here on my desk, what was his name?"

"Dan Walsh."

"Walsh. . .let me see, yeah, here it is. I'll try to get back to him later on this week, but right now I'm swamped."

"Did you get the book I overnighted, the one Billy wrote, Timtown?"

"Yeah I did," Tainer hesitated, apparently his mind was on something else, "but to tell you the truth, I haven't gotten to it yet. I sent it to one of my readers, I should hear back after the holidays."

"I thought you would look at it?"

"Oh, I will, but I get someone else to clean it up first."

"Ah, you know, my wife did that already."

"I mean cleaned up by a professional. I get so strapped for time, I can't get involved in editing. The better it gets to my desk, the more apt I am to give it the attention it deserves. I'm envious of Billy for finding the time, somewhere, to write anything. I think I've got some great stories, but I don't have the time to put them down. Can you imagine that?"

"Oh, it's just that my wife is so thrilled about it, she just can't wait to hear back from you."

Manny was a little miffed about the professional remark because it was a personal affront to Cassey who he considered intellectually superior to most anybody, but thought better of mentioning it.

"When you do get around to it, just call her okay? I've been taking a lot of time on this thing with Billy, and now Cassey is getting involved, and the book is her end of the deal."

"I understand Manny, as soon as I can get to it, I will call her."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Look, I know you're busy, so I'll get going. I just wanted to say thanks, the talk with Lieutenant Walsh was eye opening. You and Billy were really heroes and you certainly deserved the medals. I'm curious though, who was doing the shooting from the hill, you or Billy?"

"It was me from the position up on the hill. I don't know what happened to Billy. We saw what was going down, and Billy took off, down the hill, toward the ambush. He must have gotten in close, I'm sure. After the choppers left, it took him half an hour to reload all the magazines he had emptied."

"Wow, I can't even imagine something so intense. How did you keep from crapping in your pants?"

"Who said I didn't?" Tainer smiled.

Manny just nodded, appreciating the admission. "I got to the Wall," he added.

"What did you think?"

"It was devastating after I figured it all out. Anyone that has any doubts about that war, needs to go through the experience."

"What did it tell you?"

"How utterly ridiculous it was to stay there and just keep on throwing away all those lives, for nothing. How the hell could something like that happen?"

"Like I told you before, Vietnam was a research and development policy that was okay, except the costs were way to high and no one knew when to end it. Vietnam was an engineer's delight, look at what they learned about helicopters. The latest generation of them are a direct yield of what they learned in that war."

"Shit, can't they find another way to test their theories?"

"If you've got questions about how well something is going to work, or if it will at all, there's no substitute for the real thing. They're still doing it. Look at Iraq and Afghanistan. The military needs to test. No better place than to find a dictator to kick around now and then, keeps everybody sharp. Vietnam taught us that. Before you send in the troops, demoralize the opposition. When the first of your troops arrive, you want the enemy to be looking forward to having them there, to surrender to, not to fight."

"I guess."

"The present day special forces operational manuals were written back in Vietnam. We were operating independently and learning as we went. What we passed on to them and what they have learned in addition make them extremely proficient. They owe a lot to a guy like Billy, an independent thinker like he was. There were others too. Did I tell you about O'Brien yet?"

"No."

"Millard O'Brien, Aka Bat O'Brien, Outhouse Junction, Tennessee."

"Outhouse?" Manny laughed.

"Yeah, that's what Bat claimed. He said he lived where nobody had any maps yet. I could believe it as back woods as he was. He was skinny, about five foot four, a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. Homely as hell, red hair, freckles, big ass ears that stuck straight out to the side, that's where he got the moniker Bat. Bat was the result of cousins with cousins, going way back, I'm sure, but, Bat O'Brien could hit a fly at a hundred yards. We were all good shots, but he was way beyond us. He was the ultimate hunter. Sometimes he'd stay out for three weeks, living on the land. He used to wear the uniforms of the guys he bagged."

"That's creepy!" Manny said.

"That was Bat all right. He wouldn't swear either, claimed 'God don't like cussin!' I asked him about his lust for killing one time, and he told me he was just doing God's work, cleansing the Kingdom of them heathens."

"It got to the point that the other guys didn't want to go out with him, he'd stay too long, so he went by himself. Bat was in country way before we were. Billy went out with him a couple of times when we first got there, 'To learn the ropes,' he said. After we had been there, like eight months, Bat never came back this one time, but I find it hard to believe the VC got him. I think he's still out there to tell you the truth. Anyway, whenever he was in the rear this Major from intelligence would come down immediately to see Bat. This Major had a standing request to be called whenever Bat showed up, and he would sit and listen to Bat for hours, taking all these notes."

"You ever wonder who killed Kennedy?" Tainer continued.

"JFK or RFK?"

"John, who really shot him?"

"I guess Oswald?"

"According to the Warren Commission?" Mark asked, a cynical smile on his face.

"That's what we were told."

"Ah, duped, just like it was your duty as an American."

"I've heard other theories, you can shed some light on this?"

"When we got to sniper school they said they were going to teach us to shoot like Lee Harvey Oswald. It was the first time I ever thought about what really happened to Kennedy, who actually did the shooting. The instructors were being facetious of course. It would have been impossible for Oswald to have fired so fast and so accurate with the rifle they found. They were trying to impress upon us that the Kennedy assassination was a conspiracy."

"No shit, Oswald really didn't do it?"

"Not all by himself he didn't. Of course the truth would have really shook the government up, at that time. Kennedy wanted to stay out of Vietnam, others didn't. I can still remember that day, but it wasn't until sniper school that I started to question policies. You wouldn't believe how stupid the system can get."

"I can remember the time," Tainer continued, "we got this asshole Sergeant in our unit. Sergeant Schnelling, what a rube, a real lifer. I don't know how the hell we ended up with him, but we did. He was an admin clown and I guess they decided that we needed to keep some records and so there he was. I think he had been in the Crotch like 18 years, and already a Sergeant, a real bozo. He is there like two days and already we couldn't stand him. Billy and I were just Corporals at the time, so he outranked us and he immediately started to push his weight around. He had it to, big fuckin beer belly, smoked like a chimney, lived for coffee and smokes."

"So anyway here comes Sergeant Dildo, as Billy called him, and he is all spit and polish. We've got guys living in this hooch when we're in base camp, out of the field. We spend all this time out and clean uniforms and polished boots are not our priority, considering that out in the field we tried to blend in, which means looking ratty as hell. Old Sergeant Suck Up goes to the Head Quarters Company Commander and complains that the S-2 bunch, Scout-snipers, that's us, are a disgrace and he intends to do something about it. The Company Commander comes over to our hooch to check us out. Billy explains that the time we spent in the rear is not for spit and polish, but for training the new guys and things like that. This Major knows about us and kind of agrees. We don't stand company formations because not our ratty asses tarnish the clean and disciplined ranks, but Schnelling demands that we be present for the company inspection that afternoon."

"So here we are, standing at attention, dirty as shit, no new uniforms or anything like that, and some flunky officer wanting us to present arms. Hell, I couldn't even remember how it went. Billy never did come to attention. He's standing there, leaning on his M-16 and when this officer gets to him, Billy hands the officer the rifle, butt first. This is a green Lewy and he doesn't know what to do and just gives Billy the M-16 back and goes to the next guy."

"Here's all these office weenies looking like they're ready to march in a parade and at one end, eight guys looking like skid row bums. We made no attempt whatsoever to clean up. We never wore covers, hats, our longer shaggy hair blended in better in the bush and we seldom shaved."

"Schnelling didn't say anything to us before the inspection. I guess he figured that we're going to catch shit for the way we looked. So, Sergeant Dildo is standing there prim and proper, with a smirk on his face when the inspecting officer gets to him. Old Sarg does a beautiful present arms, the lieutenant snaps the M-16 crisply from him, pulls the bolt actuator back and it just falls back loose. Billy had taken the bolt out of the idiot's rifle and closed the dust cover. So here's Sergeant Schnelling with this god awful look on his face, and Billy, myself and a couple of the other guys laying in the dust holding our guts, laughing like crazy. The inspection kind of fell apart at that point."

"So, the company commander, this Major called us into his office. We didn't know what to expect, but this Major was trying to be stern, to preserve discipline he said, but you could tell the whole time he was close to busting out laughing."

"Schnelling, the idiot that he was, decides that he needs to get some combat time. It looks good on your record for promotions. He plans this little patrol and gets the okay from the Company Commander. Billy goes to the Major and tries to talk him out of letting Schnelling go into the field, but the Major says that it isn't a long one, just out to a couple of villages and then back, so what can go wrong? Billy wasn't too happy, but we were stuck. Schnelling plans this little foray and he keeps it short because I know he's scared. It's about two clicks out and then right back. We're not too worried about the VC, we know these two villages and they're too close to the fire base for anything but a couple of local VC."

"We take two shooters, knowing the sniper rifles will make anyone out there think twice about taking a shot at us. We've got a couple of new guys and Billy and I want to familiarize them with what to look for, that sort of thing. We go out to the first village and then turn. Schnelling had made this over lay for the artillery base, with fire coordinates preset. He actually did a good job. So the point, this guy Lujak, with one of the new guys comes to the trail running off to the right. He sees that the villagers have been walking down off the trail and he informs the new guy, can't remember his name, that the trail is more than likely booby trapped. Schnelling sees the point go off the trail and starts yelling. If there is any way to get a guy that's used to quiet and covert, pissed, it's some fuckin idiot making too much noise. Schnelling won't settle down about his orders not being followed, and I was worried that Billy might end up shooting him. The C.O. had warned us that if anything happened to Schnelling, he was damn sure going to find out why?"

"I finally got the dumb fuck to shut up by the time Billy came up from the rear to see what the hell the problem was. Schnelling was incensed that the point guys had deviated from his well laid plans. Lujak came back and told us why, so Billy told him to go back up and proceed with caution. Sergeant Dildo starts arguing again, and I can't believe it. He's yelling at Billy about how he out ranks him and it's his patrol so we do what he says. Billy tells him to shut the fuck up, that he's broadcasting our position. I'm trying to explain to the dumb fuck why we don't walk down trails that all the locals avoid, and he pulls his forty-five out and starts yelling about court martials and shooting people for disobeying orders. I mean, here were are, seven guys out in the fuckin sticks and this asshole you can hear for miles. At that point, I know Billy's going to shoot him, I just know it for sure, but Stanton, one of the guys that had been with us for a while, steps in and kicks the Sergeant right in the balls. I mean, lifted him right off the ground. Shut him up and saved his ass!"

"The dumb fuck pressed charges, as soon as we get back. This is some serious shit, disobeying an order in combat. Some asshole from the Judge Advocates Office comes looking for heads to bash. Billy, myself, and Lujak are named in the court-martial. I guess Schnelling was grateful to Stanton and didn't include him in the charges. We all have to fill out this report. They've got MP's standing over us and everything. Two of the line Company Commanders saved our asses. We had a good record with them and they pointed out the ridiculous actions of the Sergeant to the guy from the JAG. They sent the Sergeant somewhere where he couldn't cause any more problems, I guess."

"The Battalion Base Commander, a colonel, said that all the rigmarole with the JAG made him look bad, and that from that point on, we ,the snipers, would be dressed according to the uniform of the day while on his post. The next day, we're playing football on the parade ground, and this colonel sees us out there, running around in cut off utility shorts, and no shirts, but we had all shaved. He comes rushing over and starts babbling about how we are disobeying a direct order, we are out of uniform. Billy's talking to him, explaining that it's ninety-five degrees with ninety percent humidity, and that full uniforms would be pretty silly, especially when the uniform of the day is not required for any sports or calisthenics."

"The Colonel comes unglued and starts yelling at Billy, dressing him down as a malcontent. Billy doesn't say anything until this guy finally burns himself out."

"The next day Billy organizes the football game again, but this time we're out there in shirts, long pants, boots, the uniform of the day. We were wondering what's up? We didn't feel like playing football in the heat dressed like that, but Billy said to just do it, it would be worth it. We knew he was up to something so we went along. The Colonel's tent and private privy were down at the end of the field. We're playing football, sweating like pigs and the Colonel comes by and tells us he appreciates our trying to conform, that it's essential for everyone's moral. That we are all the same here in camp, no one is special."

"He struts off and goes into his private john. This private privy is about the size of a toilet stall and it's closed off with canvas. It had this big ass water tank over it for flushing. There was a pull rope attached to a check valve up on the tank to allow only a little water to come out, just enough to flush the toilet. The Colonel goes in and we just keep on playing football. Billy's got this big smirk on his face, and we haven't got the slightest inkling why. All of a sudden, we hear this shouting and swearing coming from the Colonels privy and then water coming out of the bottom of the canvas. Next thing we know, the flap flies open and the Colonel, with his pants down around his ankles, comes stumbling out, falling flat on his face in the mud, his white ass sticking up, covered with shit. His orderly rushes up and tries to help him up, but the Colonel is all twisted in his trousers and having a tirade. We figure it was a good time to skedaddle, but Billy said bullshit, we're playing football and he wasn't about to miss any of this."

"It took a few minutes for the Colonel to get straightened out, but he was still covered with mud and swearing. Most of the camp was there by now and everyone was standing watching, except us, we just went on with our game, not paying any attention. It was real obvious that we probably had something to do with it. They checked the privy, and it seems that someone had removed the check valve return spring from the overhead water tank, so instead of just a measured amount of water coming down to flush his toilet, the whole tank empty itself while the Colonel was still sitting on the pot."

"A big stink was brewing, the Colonel was going to try and arrest all of us, but an MP Major came from Da Nang. He was called to investigate an attempt to jeopardized the Colonel's well-being, but after he researched the incident, he came to the conclusion that an enema was not life threatening. The Colonel said that, 'Tomorrow, the whole bunch of us would be sorry,' but in the morning there wasn't a sniper to be found. We all slipped out that night. We gradually came back after about a week, a team at a time, but the thing had blown over. The Colonel had tried to get somebody higher up to take his humiliation seriously, but we heard all he got was a bunch of snickers when the story got around. The Commander of the Sniper School, a two star, personally came and calmed him down, said boys will be boys, or something to that effect. That Colonel, was still giving us dirty looks, till the day I left."

"One of Billy's favorites was messing with fresh officers. Back in the rear, around Da Nang, it was still customary to salute, sometimes. We never did of course, hell we never wore rank, so nobody knew if we were officers, or enlisted. Billy would walk by officers, and just when we'd get abreast, he'd shout, 'Good morning,' or 'Good afternoon Sir,' whatever was appropriate and just keep on walking. The officers would spin around to accept the acknowledgment, and get our backs as we were walking away. You wouldn't believe it, but some of those idiots would try to make an issue out of it. It was hilarious, some boy wonder trying to get the MP's to charge us with insubordination or some stupid thing, and the MP's trying to explain, to this guy, that there was really nothing they could do, considering who we were. Anytime there was a beef the normal thing was to go to a Marine's Commanding Officer, but that didn't really apply to us. The head of the MP's in Da Nang personally requested that we cut the crap because he had more important issues than officers being insulted."

"Billy and I would go into Da Nang, once in a while with captured gear. For two AK 47's we could get a pallet of beer delivered to the base. One AK for the beer and one for the delivery."

"That's a lot of beer," Manny commented.

"I have no idea. We were never there, warm Falstaff was not our idea of a good time. Billy joked he was spoiled because Minnesotans always had cold beer."

"Aside from the screwing around, Billy was a good teacher and he really went out of his way with new guys. We lost a couple in the first month due to stupid mistakes, and from then on Billy worked hard to familiarize everyone with what to expect. He had this exercise called Blind Man's Bluff. Did he ever tell you about it?"

"No, never heard of it?"

"Billy used it to get new guys mellowed out about being out in the jungle, alone. When you're out there waiting is what you do most of the time. It can get really boring and your mind can wander. If somebody's inexperienced the idle time can get them to thinking about the wrong thing, so Billy devised ways to focus. One was Blind Man's Bluff."

"You would start just before dawn and pretend you were blind, which wasn't far from the truth. In the jungle it's so dark you can't see a thing, your eyes are worthless, and so you must use the other senses. It is not the kind of situation that you can afford to be out of touch with your surroundings. You would concentrate on the other senses, and it is incredible what you can hear, smell, feel, if you can't see anything. As it starts to get light you concentrate on combining the new sense, sight, and the others. It works, it focuses your mind to your surroundings. Many of the guys would be uptight until they practiced this a couple of times. You do the opposite in the evening. I still practice it when I'm burned out or stressed. You should try it."

"Of course now it would be irrelevant," Mark Tainer laughed. "I went to the VA for a complete physical a couple of years ago and they told me my eyes are still pretty good, but not like they used to be. My night vision is terrible, and my hearing isn't worth a shit. I wouldn't last a day in that environment now. I couldn't sneak up on a blind man anymore.

"I can't imagine you guys being so calm about what you were doing, I'd be a wreck," Manny said.

"You needed a philosophy to stay sane and efficient. Mine was that the enemy was better off not knowing we were there, then we didn't have to kill them. I remember one time we had stumbled into a bunker complex without them knowing it. Fuckin NVA all over the place. We were a little surprised too. We had a hell of a time getting back out without being discovered. At one point I was about ten feet from this NVA and he was looking right at me, but didn't see me in the foliage. I kept thinking, buddy, don't screw up and spot me, or you're dead."

"You never got scared?"

"Sure I was scared, but I did what I had to do, that's all. I don't remember Billy ever really sweating the missions though, except his door gunner stint. We got to know some of the pilots and one said we could serve a rotation as a door gunner on his Huey Gun-ship. Billy went first, he was excited about not having to be on the ground. I guess it was a little unnerving because when he got back, he recommended that I forget the whole thing. I believed him and didn't take my turn. He said that they would fly six or seven missions a day and that made the odds look bad. He was sitting on the skids, one day, with an ammo box full of sandwiches between his knees. When he looked down the box was gone and there was a hole in the floor. They'd come back from missions and the ship would be full of holes. They got shot down one time and he said it was not a very safe way to fight a war, they made too good a target."

Mark got a call and told Manny that he had business.

Manny said he too had to hit the road because he had made plans to visit Billy's mother next.

Tainer said to call anytime.

Chapter 15

"I hope I'm not disturbing you Mrs. Palmer?" Manny apologized, as Billy's mother welcomed him into her home.

"Oh no, it was nice of you to come see me, I don't get many visitors anymore, not since my husband died. Gwen is so far away, down there in Texas, and Kris is always working so hard he never gets any time to spend with his own mother. You still up there in Red Pine?"

"Yes, it's still a great place to live, except the winters are getting tougher to accept. Of course I can get away much more now."

"That's nice. I went to Texas for Christmas once, but it was just too hard on me, all that traveling and the cost. My word, I can't believe how much it was, over three hundred dollars, just to go to Texas and back."

"That must have been some time ago Mrs. Palmer?"

"Yes, it was the year after my husband died. He never wanted to go see Gwen. I can tolerate her new husband, but my husband just couldn't overlook other people's faults."

"Tom has always been a heck of a good person Mrs. Palmer, I can't see why your husband would've had a problem there?"

"Oh, he was much too critical of people's imperfections. If they didn't come up to his standards, he wouldn't have a thing to do with them."

"I always got along with him."

"You were young, so he could overlook your faults. When he figured you were a man though, then you had to straighten up."

"He didn't give Billy the same consideration, if I remember correctly."

"Billy got a roof over his head and meals on the table. That was a lot more than my husband got from his father, I can tell you that."

"I guess, Mrs. Palmer, but the reason I stopped was to see if you had anything of Billy's that pertained to Vietnam?"

"No, there wasn't anything that I remember. Billy didn't bring anything back."

"No letters, or cards, anything that he might have sent you?"

"No nothing, he didn't send anything. Those Vietnam bums got away with everything. My husband was in WWII and those were real soldiers, not like those pot heads they sent over there. They lost that war. Our government gave them the best guns and all those fancy planes, and they still lost. My husband said a monkey could have won that war, with all that stuff they got. Smoked too much pot to do anything right."

"I don't remember Billy smoking any pot."

"Oh, you weren't his mother, I know."

"But, Mrs. Palmer, I was Billy's best friend and we drank beer, maybe some hard stuff, but I don't remember any marijuana until after he was back from the war."

"Don't tell a mother she doesn't know about what's going on with her boys, she knows."

"It must have been hard for you, having him there and not knowing what to expect."

"Billy didn't care what I went through, none of those Nam vets gave a darn about anything but their drugs. Look at that Campbell. Guy didn't care about anything, but getting high, put Gwen through hell."

"But, Mrs. Palmer, in all fairness, Billy and John Campbell were very different people."

"No, they weren't! They were peas in a pod, those two, both the same. Never cared about anything but themselves. Going from woman to woman, just messing everybody's lives up."

"Gee, I don't remember Billy being much of a womanizer Mrs. Palmer."

"Oh, he had all those girlfriends, all the time. He was going from one to the other. My husband told me a lot, let me tell you. He knew what Billy was up to. I wasn't in the dark about Billy's shenanigans, no sireey, a mother knows."

"Billy was just friends with those girls. He was like a brother to most of the girls we knew."

"Nope, a man don't hang around with a women to be her friend."

"Mrs. Palmer, I think you're wrong about that."

"I'm not wrong Manny Anderson. You're just sticking your head in the sand. I didn't want to say anything, but Billy was trying to steal your girlfriend too."

"My girlfriend?"

"Yes, your girlfriend, the pretty blond that was always hanging on Billy."

"You mean Cassey Miller?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Didn't you two get married?"

"Yes, we did?"

"There you go, her and Billy were going on behind your back and you didn't even know. See a mother knows. My husband told me everything."

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you that you've got it all wrong. I'm the one that stole Billy's girlfriend. It was the other way around, Mrs. Palmer."

"Oh pooh, Billy had so many girlfriends, one didn't make any difference to him. He fooled around so much that he never got married, or had any kids. If it hadn't been for Kris, I would have never had any grandchildren. Billy didn't care about me. He didn't care when I had to see those men in uniforms coming to my door, scaring me like that!"

"I don't think you can blame that on Billy."

"He was the one doing the drugs, getting hurt because he was high all the time, and I was the one that had the uniforms coming to my door. They even stopped at the neighbors once because they couldn't find my house. Walked right up to the door where his sister was babysitting. Poor thing called me. Now, do you think that was something that a good son and brother would have done? No, but you see Billy only cared about himself."

"Mrs. Palmer, he was fighting a war, he wasn't getting—"

"If they were so busy fighting a war, as you say, how come they lost it, huh, how come?"

"It's a long story that I'm working on."

"Oh pish posh. I was a young girl when they won WWII, and I'll tell you they didn't play around then. My husband was a sailor in that one, and I can tell you those were real fighting men. My husband never put his mother through what Billy did to me."

"Your husband was never wounded?"

"No, they were real fighting men, like I told you, and they never fooled around with drugs, got the job done. You know he told me all about it. He told me why those guys in Vietnam couldn't win. All drugged out, chasing after those Oriental whores, not doing their jobs and then coming back here, and expecting everything given to them. No sireey, they didn't deserve anything. If that war had of gone any longer, Kris was going to go to Canada. Now there is a fine boy, a good son. You know we tried to help Billy when he got back, his father and I, but he refused. What do you do then?"

"Tried to help him, how?"

"Well, first he needed to be cleansed of his sins, to make a fresh start. Our pastor was going to re-baptize him so he would be free from the sins he committed in that godforsaken place. He needed to admit to his sins and then only then could he be free."

"I didn't know your family was religious."

"My husband said that was what Billy needed to do."

"I see, you expected him to be a spectacle in front of your church? That's what he needed?"

"To make a fresh start, yes. He figured that life just went on, like he had done nothing wrong. Well, he was wrong wasn't he, he proved that. He never amounted to anything and it was his own fault. Before my husband died, he told me he was so disappointed his first son never amounted to anything. He was so happy there was Kris, Kris made up for Billy."

"I'm sorry that you understand so little. Did you know that your son was a hero? I've just visited with a man that confirmed it."

"A hero you say. Sneaking around, shooting people in the back. My husband found out what he did over there and I'll tell you it was despicable. My husband said that in WWII they shot those guys right away."

"The other side's, I'm sure they did."

"My husband said nobody liked those guys, so secretive and all that. That was just like Billy when he got back, never saying anything, just watching. I'll tell you, we didn't trust him. Never know when those guys could explode. Use to worry my husband a lot. We had Gwen and Kris to worry about. Couldn't have Billy going off and hurting them."

"I remember Billy being really good to those kids. I know some of Kris's friends really liked Billy, he watched out for all of them"

"Well, my husband and I would have never let Billy hurt any of those kids."

"I'm telling you, he would have never hurt anybody, you didn't have to worry, Mrs. Palmer." Manny was angry

"Because we didn't let him! Aren't you listening to me Manny Anderson, you need to remember, a mother knows."

"Oh, I'm listening, but I'm not believing what I'm hearing. I think I'll just go Mrs. Palmer. Have a nice day."

Chapter 16

"Mr. Ted Gannet, my name is Manny Anderson, and I understand that you knew a Bill Palmer?" Manny asked into the telephone in his kitchen, back home again.

"Name doesn't ring a bell, offhand," Gannet answered.

"I have information that says a William, Billy Palmer worked for you in the middle eighties."

"Like I said, I don't recall—"

"I'm not an investigator for anyone, Mr. Gannet. I'm simply looking for information about somebody's life, and your name came up. I am not out to hurt anyone."

"How do I know that?"

"I can give you my number, and you call here. You'll see that I'm nothing more than a retail exec."

"If you were up to no good that would be an excellent cover, now wouldn't it Mr., what was the name you used?"

"Manny Anderson and it's my real name. Billy was an old friend."

"Where did you say you were calling from?"

"Red Pine Minnesota."

"This Palmer character from there too?"

"Yes, he was."

"Well, I remember Palmer telling me he was from some small Minnesota town, Red something, so I guess you could have known him."

"You did know him then?"

"Yeah, I knew him," Gannet responded.

"Mr. Gannet, if you don't mind, I'd like to come down to Tucson and speak with you in person."

"What're you trying to get on Palmer? Has he done anything?"

"No, Mr. Gannet, he died recently, and I'm trying to put his life back together."

"He's dead? Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Gannet sounded sad.

"Yeah, we were close friends once and I made the mistake of losing that friendship out of negligence. I guess I'm trying to make amends."

"And, a little late for that, wouldn't you say old friend of his," Gannet added sternly.

"Yes, I know."

"Minnesota huh?" Gannet sounded friendlier. "Got to be damn cold today. It's a lot nicer here in Tucson, I'm sure."

"Are you a mind reader Mr. Gannet?"

"Call me Ted, and Mr. Anderson, it doesn't take a clairvoyant to suspect the reason you want to come here. I grew up in Grand Forks N. Dakota."

"You figured me out that's for sure, and call me Manny. You a golfer Ted?"

"I play some."

*

"So the visit to see Billy's mother was a bust, huh?" Cassey asked, sitting at the kitchen table eating hot soup.

"Man, is she batty," Manny answered, cradling a hot mug in his hands. "She's convinced that Billy tried to steal you from me, and that Kris was a good kid."

"Kris, that screw off, and talk about a druggy," Cassey said.

"No shit! She's convinced that Billy was a terrible womanizer, and Kris was a saint."

"I never really knew her, or his dad, Billy didn't spend too much time there," Cassey returned. They were nicey-nice to me, phony, made me uncomfortable. Billy's dad really pulled one on him once. Billy had gotten his license and asked to use his mother's car so we could go to a show. He had made arrangements for Saturday night and he was picking me up at seven. It was our first car date. For two years we had to walk everywhere. Half an hour before Billy was going to pick me up, his dad took the car. His dad never used that car, only his mother drove it. Poor Billy had to call and tell me we were back to walking. About a month later his dad asked Billy if he wanted to use the car to take me out? Billy said okay, told his dad Saturday night would be great. Saturday night came and Billy's dad was at home, figuring to do the same thing, but he didn't realize Billy had outsmarted him and never intended to use the car. We came and picked Billy up before his dad pulled his stunt. Man, was his father pissed. I couldn't believe a father could be such a jerk."

"They were okay to me when we were kids," Manny said, "but they sure weren't pro Billy. I realized that a long time ago. And talking to his mother this morning, you'd think she was describing Attila the Hun. You wonder about people like that, what makes them tick? Then you realize you'd have to spend time with them to find out, and all of a sudden the need to know is not so important anymore."

"Manny, you're such a pragmatic, scatter brained, character."

"Is that a compliment, or a hint?"

"It's a praise darling. I'd hate to see you chance, any other Manny might not be as interesting."

"I'm going to see Donny out in Utah."

"Yeah, he told me."

"You don't want to go?"

"Nah, he'll be here with Danny in three more weeks for the holidays. It'll be great to see them both together again."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to everyone being together. We sure are lucky, all this Billy stuff has made me realize how important a close, loving family can be. A simple little thing like being there for each other makes such a difference."

"I hope it will always be like that Manny," Cassey said, snuggling up to Manny

"I couldn't imagine anything that could change it my love," Manny said, holding her tight.

"I found a guy that Billy worked for in Tucson Arizona. Ted Gannet, Gannet Construction, and he's agreed to meet with me. After Donny, I'll swing down and then back home for the holidays."

"Nothing from Mark Tainer about Timtown?" Cassey questioned.

"Nah, I guess he's too busy right now."

"Curious, I mean, wasn't Billy important to him?"

"Cassey, he's got a business to run. He said he hasn't even got the time to write anything himself. He said he would get back to us after the holidays."

Chapter 17

Cheryl Crow was rocking on the juke box, singing about sunshine somewhere, while Manny was sitting in a dimly lit restaurant. He was in the back of the establishment, and the patrons were mostly soldiers. There was anything but sunshine out the window. The mountains in the near distance were cut horizontally by a solid gray line of heavy clouds. Manny was talking with one of the soldiers, a good looking blond boy.

"Mom says you are on some sort of quest?" the soldier asked.

"Did she say anything about it?"

"No, not much. Just, you're trying to find out about a guy you both knew."

"Yeah, Billy Palmer."

"Who was he?"

"A guy we grew up with. He went to Vietnam."

"Did he get back?"

"Yeah, but that's where his problems started. He did his thing, and we never appreciated him for it."

"What was he in?"

"The Marines, he was a sniper."

"Whoa, tough dude."

"You know about those guys?"

"Oh yeah, around here we get the noise. You think you're tough, try that on for size, etc., things like that. There's a group of snipers here in camp, and I kind of know one of the guys because he's from Minnesota, and we've talked. You should talk to him. I can check it out if you want?"

"You think they'd talk to me?"

"Can't hurt to try. I'll look him up tonight when I get back to base, and see what he says."

"I'd appreciate that. How they treating you here?"

"Good, the training is intense, but I guess it's for a reason. Never know when we might need to be sharp."

"To protect our way of life, huh?"

"Damn right Pop, the other side doesn't believe in cheerleaders. Can you imagine life without pretty girls in short skirts."

"No, I can't even begin to imagine that," Manny said smiling, thinking back to his school days, and pretty Cassey out there cheering everyone on.

*

The next morning Manny was back in the same place, but this time in one of the booths toward the front, eating breakfast. However, this morning there is a little bit of sun shining outside, the solid overcast from the day before had dissipated, giving way to scattered clouds. His son Donny walked through the door with another soldier and headed toward Manny. This one is older.

"Dad, this is the Minnesota guy I told you about, Staff Sergeant Baylor," Donny said as they took the seat across from Manny. "He got interested when I mentioned you knew a Marine sniper from Vietnam. They idolize those guys."

"Yes, Sir, we do, Sir." I'm Staff Sergeant Baylor, Special OP's, nice to meet you. You're from Red Pine?"

"Yes, Manny Anderson." Manny shook his hand. The Sergeant was a tall thin guy, but he looked in great shape, the muscles on his arms were impressive. "My son tells me you're from Minnesota too."

"From the big city, Minneapolis, but I go hunting up in your neck of the woods, beautiful country."

"Only in the summer, Sergeant."

"Mr. Anderson, Minnesota is great anytime of the year, compared to some of the places we end up."

"I can imagine. Donny tells me you're part of a sniper team."

"Yes, Sir, but we do many different things."

"Donny told you why I wanted to speak to you?"

"Sort of. You're looking for information about a Vietnam vet, somebody you knew."

"Yes."

"I don't know if I can help, but if I can, I certainly will. That was a long time ago and things are different now. Donny tells me your friend was a Marine?"

"Yes, his name was Billy Palmer and he was in Vietnam in sixty-six and sixty-seven. I've talked to some of the people that knew him there, and it's quite a story."

"I'm sure it was, those guys were something. They operated by themselves— mostly—very little support, something we don't have to worry about. Much of our doctrine was put together by those guys. Did he make it back?

"Yes."

"I'd like to talk to him, if that's possible, next time I'm up near Red Pine."

"He died a month ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Those Marine Snipers were one tough bunch though. If the brass would have listened to them they might have won that war. Really kicked some serious gook ass."

"That's what I'm finding out. It took a different kind of person to be a sniper then. What kind of person do they look for now?

"Independent, people that can think for themselves. Oddly enough, the sort of personnel that make good special Op's troops are not necessarily good military men."

"I'm finding that out too. Apparently my friend didn't have much patience for military thinking, or discipline."

"Small units like that don't rely on the chain of command. Every guy is expected to be a leader, if and when it becomes necessary."

"How could I get access to Billy's military record, or is that legal?"

"Yes, of course, I would be glad to do it for you. They encourage us to get involved, dig into the histories of our predecessors. I have the day off, give me any information you have and I will see what I can find."

Manny gave Baylor Billy's social security number, Billy's military number and his birth date. "Is this enough for you?"

"Yes, I think I can get what you need with this."

*

Manny, Donny, and Baylor were sitting in a fancier place this time, and it was dark outside.

"I pulled Billy Palmer's records, and you will definitely be interested in what they say," said Baylor. "This guy, your friend Billy Palmer, he was definitely a real Marine. This is his first proficiency report, done after week four in boot camp."

Sergeant Baylor handed Manny the report.

Manny took the paper and began to read.

"Private Palmer, is quick to learn, but has no inclination to lead. He is willing, however, to assist in any and all endeavors placed upon his fellow recruits. Private Palmer is extremely intelligent, proficient, and savvy, figuring out how to make his boot camp training as easy as possible, but not jeopardizing anyone else's position. Private Palmer does push the limits, but only those that involve his own circumstances. He gets along well with others, not really caring about the attitude of others toward himself, whether pro or con, and does not get involved in any group dynamics. I would classify Private Palmer as a mildly introverted, extrovert who seeks his diversion on his own."

After Manny was finished and put the paper down, Baylor picked up another one. "This is a second proficiency report done after week six, after they had done the rifle range training."

"Private Palmer was lacking in enthusiasm and needed some discipline concerning the snapping in phase of rifle training, but exhibited extreme proficiency in the actual shooting, constantly scoring very high numbers. Private Palmer is not in the least intimidated by the rank structure and has no apparent insolence to it either."

When Manny was done with the second report, the Sergeant spoke. "This is exactly the kind of person they look for. One that can run his own show, but will get involved if it is necessary. A loner that is willing to participate. I can tell you that this friend of yours, this Billy Palmer is the sort of guy we modeled our tactics from."

"This report about Billy, what did you call it?"

"A proficiency report, it's the evaluation of a person's progress."

"This is fascinating. Who wrote these? They're damn good."

"Ah, let's see, these were done in boot," Baylor said "The guy was one of the DI's, a Gunnery Sergeant Mullens."

"This guy was just a drill Sergeant, he seems quite intelligent?"

"What, you think just anybody is allowed to be a recruit training member?" Baylor laughed. "Those guys are handpicked, just like the snipers. They end up there because they are good at what they do. If you want to see competence, you should spend a couple of hours aboard one of our aircraft carriers."

"Oh man, Pop, he's not kidding," Donny cut in. "We had a short detachment on the Carl Vincent. Man those sailors are something. I was scared shitless up on that flight deck, so much going on, but it was just another day to them."

"Yeah, it seems like the general public sees only the worst part of the military," Baylor added. "The big story generally comes along when something goes wrong, like Vietnam. There the only part anyone saw was the mess."

"I'm still having trouble understanding why it got so convoluted, so out of control," Donny said, shaking his head.

"I guess the politicians had free reign on that one," Baylor stated.

"That Sergeant, is a summation if I've ever heard one," Manny said. "I've personally known quite a few politicians, and I doubt if they could successfully run anything. They can never get beyond the reelection mentality. Their decisions are not based on what effect they'll have, just on how many votes they'll win or lose."

"I'll never understand politics," Donny said.

"Someone has to be there, to take the credit," Manny laughed.

"What about the blame?" Donny asked.

"Oh, you won't see a politician within miles of that discussion, trust me on that one."

Manny turned to Baylor. "So Sergeant, tell me what fascinates you so much about Billy Palmer and his cohorts?"

"Well, Sir, those guys had no radios, no way to summon support. They just went into the bush on hunting trips. Some of them never came back, you know. Now, we are always in contact with support, air, artillery, medical and rescue elements. Those guys in Vietnam, especially the Marine units, went out entirely on their own, under no one's orders, I might add, and capture was not an option."

"What do you mean, without orders?"

"They operated without getting orders from any higher source. They did all this on their own. They decided when and where to go, all on their own."

"You mean they didn't have to go into the field?"

"Correct, they could have probably spent that war in the rear, but didn't."

"Bill's partner told me they would snatch villagers to get to the rear."

"Why did he say they did that?"

"Sometimes, some officers would try to incorporate them into the field company operations, walk point, dig bunkers, stand guard, things like that, and the guys didn't like it so they would grab a villager and then escort them to the rear."

"I wouldn't have blamed them in the least. There is nothing worse for a specialist trained in covert operations to be subjected to the everyday mayhem the normal units operate under. Many of the line companies want special OP's personnel because of their expertise, but the special Op's people don't relish what they consider the risky business of the ground troops. Each entity considers the other to be crazy, or foolish, to this day."

"Yeah, Billy's partner, Mark Tainer, told me Billy was very good at knowing where he was. Every line officer in the regiment knew that and wanted Billy around. Tainer told me Billy was wounded three times, and every time it was with a large unit, they'd just walk into the shit. The last time got him sent home, knocked out of the game."

"It's all in here," Baylor said, handing Manny Billy's records.

"Find anything bad?"

"Some incidences of insubordination, but that's to be expected. The command structure of the military would naturally come in conflict with a man like Billy, but he did his job well, I can tell you that."

Chapter 18

Mt. Lemon was dappled in sun light, as Manny stopped in front of Gannet Construction. Tucson Arizona was one of his favorite cities because it was a blend of the old Spanish and the new technology looks. The surrounding mountains and desert always had a fresh clean look. This haven in the desert experienced more rain than was the norm for the Desert Southwest.

Manny entered and did not have to wait to see Ted Gannet. He was ushered into the man's office by a secretary and introduced himself.

"Billy Palmer, yeah I knew him," Ted Gannet volunteered without provocation. "Best damn equipment operator I ever had. I met him at the VA hospital and we got to talking. He said he had run some equipment, somewhere, and he needed a job. I gave him a try and I wasn't disappointed. He did a hell of a job, the most dependable guy I ever had. He was real creative. We do a lot of golf course shaping and you need guys that can visualize. Billy was real good at that."

"How long did he work for you?" Manny asked.

"Oh hell, must have been three, three and a half years. You're a friend right? How did that come about?"

"We were friends, a long time ago. We were close when we were kids."

"What's the scoop? What do you want to know about him for? I'm sorry to hear he's dead. How long ago?"

"He's been dead for a month now."

"Sorry to hear that, I liked the guy. What're you doing snooping around his past? Did he do something or what?"

"No, I was a friend of his when we were kids, like I said. I sort of lost track of him, and after he died, I just became interested in his life."

"What, you writing a book or something?"

"I don't know, maybe, but Billy was the one who wrote a couple of them, good ones too."

"No kidding? I often wondered about that guy. He was really astute, but he said so little about himself, I never really knew much."

"He never said anything about his military service?"

"Nah, I asked him a couple of times, but he wouldn't say. I figured it must have been a bad experience, so I didn't press it. You know anything about it?"

Manny opened his brief case and handed Ted a copy of Billy's records. Ted opened the records and started reading. Ted read for five minutes, silent the whole time. He finally looked over the top of the papers, staring at Manny for a moment.

"I'll be damned This is all true?"

"Yes, Sir, every word has been verified."

"I've got someone that should see this, do you mind?" Ted reached for the phone on his desk and pushed a button.

"Is Miller around anywhere close?" Ted asked when the secretary answered.

"Yes, Mr. Gannet, he said he was going back to the yard."

"Get him in here, right away." Ted looked over at Manny. "Miller, that's my main foreman. He didn't like Palmer, claimed he was a coward."

"Why would he think that?"

"Oh, he's a dumb-ass redneck. He said Bill was a pussy because he and a couple of the other guys took him out hunting, and Bill didn't measure up to their lofty standards. I guess Palmer wouldn't shoot Bambi, or something like that. Miller accused him of being scared and insinuated that Bill was a coward in the military. Those idiots were always harassing him. I'm sure they were just threatened. Like I said, Bill was real smart, and most of the guys in this business aren't known for their brilliance. I've got some that aren't much smarter than the fibrous food group." Ted continued to read through the information. "This is quite a record. I had no idea Palmer was even a Marine."

From Manny's position in the office he could see down a hall running to the secretary's desk and beyond to the front door. A big, rough, burley man in jeans, cowboy boots, and work shirt opened the front door and stepped through. The man continued on past the secretary and stepped into the office.

"What's up Boss, sounded important?" The man looked over at Manny and just nodded.

"Got something here you might be interested in. Brute Miller, Manny Anderson. Brute's a nickname he picked up somewhere, can't imagine where," Ted chuckled, looking at Manny. The two men simply nodded at each other because Brute made no effort to go over to Manny.

"Manny here is an old friend of someone that worked here. I think you'll remember this guy?" Ted handed a paper to Brute. Brute looked at Manny, warily, as he walked over to the couch against the other wall and sat down. After a few moments he asked, "What's this supposed to be?" Brute held up a sheet of paper.

"What's it look like?" Ted responded.

"I don't know for sure, but it looks like some sort of commendation. Somebody got a medal; the Silver Star?"

"Recognize the name?"

"Corporal William Perry Palmer. Don't recognize the—" Brute got a frown on his face. The big man looked at Ted, then he looked back at the paper in his hand, and then back at Ted. A slow thought seemed to be developing in his head. "Is this William Palmer the same guy that worked for us quite a while back, the dozer operator? Ah, um, what was his name, ah—?"

"Bill," Ted said.

"Yeah, that guy, the good golf course builder?" Brute asked.

"The one and the same."

"Can't be. That guy was a sissy. He would have crapped his pants, anything like this happened to him," Brute stated, sure of himself.

"Same guy, Miller. Like I said, Manny here, he's an old friend of Mr. Palmer's. Came here to find out how his old friend was treated."

"Shit boss, I had no idea." Brute looked to Ted and then to Manny, an apologetic look on his face.

"Just sticking it to you a little, Brute," Ted said, looking at Manny, with a smirk on his face. "Brute and I go round and round about judging people. He's good with all the schlocks we have to hire to run the machines and do the grunt work, but is short on recognizing sophistication when it comes along."

"Aw shit Boss, I can't help it. Mosta them boys ain't any smarter than the machines they run," Brute whined.

"Got'cha on this one though."

"Damn sure did. This really the same guy, huh?"

"Yup!"

"Well, I was right about the military fucking with his head. I got the why and how a little mixed up though." Brute looked at Manny. "Hey mister, when you see Billy tell him I'm real sorry, I had no idea."

"Billy's dead!"

"No shit, what happened?" Brute did sound sincere.

"I'm not really sure, but I think it had something to do with his credibility," Manny threw back at Brute.

Ted Gannet smirked again.

"What do you mean credibility?" Brute asked, puzzled. "What's that got to do with dying?"

"Maybe Billy got tired of living, maybe he got tired of being misjudged?"

"He offed himself?" Brute asked.

"I don't know? Maybe he just didn't take care of himself properly. I think he probably got tired of all the misconceptions regarding who he really was."

Ted was listening intently, watching Brute, as Manny laid out the scenario.

"Hey, it's his own damn fault! Shit, the guy didn't say nothing about all this." Brute flicked the paper, offering his own version of an apology.

"Would you have believed him if he did?" Manny asked.

"Sure, of course. What ya think, I'd make fun of a hero. But, I'll tell yeah, my old man was in Korea, and that Nam was nothing like what he had to go through. Shit those pussies had it good compared to them guys back then."

"I would like you to read the citation there, out loud if you would?" Manny asked.

Brute looked at Ted.

"Go ahead Miller, it'll show you're contrite."

"Huh?" Brute responded.

"Just read the citation," Ted said.

"If you say so Boss. Um, let's see, it says that, 'Corporal William Perry Palmer and Corporal Markham Joseph Tainer, on June 13th, 1966." Brute was slow and deliberate with his commentary. "Did, after setting up a firing position overlooking the village of Duc Duc, in the provincial Province of Tam Key, the country of South Vietnam, witness the ambush of the third squad, 1st Platoon, Hotel Company, 2nd battalion Fifth Marines. Corporals Palmer and Tainer, under great risk to themselves, abandoned their secure position and came to the aid of the remaining members of the above mentioned platoon. The two Corporals, members of the battalion's scout/sniper squad, were operating in a two man team and still knowing that they were vastly outnumbered, did in fact, break up the attack and save the platoon from certain annihilation. Corporal Palmer was wounded in said action, but continued to harass the enemy, figured to number at least fifty NVA, until support arrived."

"That's enough Mr. Miller," Manny said. "I think you can get a reasonably good idea of what Billy did."

"Yeah, geez, he saved a few guys, all right. I knew he had been in the service, but I thought he was just some sort of psycho, wash out. Geez, we never had any idea, huh boss!"

"No, I guess in our defense we were a little ignorant all right," Ted commented.

"Tough shit they put up with, but I'll bet it still wasn't as bad as Korea. My old man had some rough fuckin shit there, made him mean as hell. Would've curled your toes, just hearing about it."

"I'm sure it did," Ted returned.

"I can't figure it?" Brute said. "Why didn't that guy stick up for himself? Shit, he acted like such a pussy."

"What're we talking about?" Ted laughed. "If I remember right, he ran you down like a dog that one time we had the football game."

"Ah boss, I told you he blind-sided me, I never saw it coming."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Say Brute, how's the equipment list for that job down south coming? We got everything we need?"

"Looks like it, but I still think we should get a new loader for the separation plant. We've about used up the old 950 and it'll start costing us real money any day now."

"I think you're probably right," Ted said. "Make sure you get the deal you want though."

"Got'cha boss," Brute Miller said as he got up and headed out of the office.

"Good man," Ted said nodding to the hallway. "Knows the business and how to handle the men. Somebody like Billy comes along though, and guys like Brute just naturally get their backs up."

"It's not his fault, the Viet Nam Vets just got a bad rap, and people tend to go with the flow."

"You trying to rectify the injustice at a late date?" Ted asked.

"You might say that."

"Good luck! With all the new dilemmas on our door step, I don't know how much success you're going to have getting people to cop to an old oversight."

"Probably not much, unless I make it entertaining."

"How you going to do that?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm trying to get someone interested in a book that Billy wrote."

"He wrote some good stuff, huh? Could I read it?"

"I'll get a copy to you when it's ready. Say, uh, how come Billy quit working for you?"

"Union bullshit. We got a big job in California and it was union. The union over there wouldn't take any new members, so we couldn't put him on. It was a really big job, took everything we had and we didn't have anything else for him at the time."

"The union denied a decorated, disabled veteran his right to make a decent living?" Manny questioned

"That's about the size of it."

"Is there anything else you know about Billy, anything you can think of?" Manny asked.

"Not off hand, but you might try talking to his wife."

"His wife!" Manny sat up attentively. "I didn't know he was ever married?"

"Oh yeah, pretty thing. A real gorgeous lady, smart too. Miller and the other guys are usually crude and rude around women, but not when Lucy came around. Then they got real courteous. I think she intimidated the hell out of them. She was from California, someplace around Palm Springs. They had a kid too, you know. A little girl about five or six. Looked like her mother, the lucky thing."

"Billy never mentioned any of this," Manny said. "I wonder what happened to them? He came back home about five years ago and he was all by himself."

"That's strange, he sure loved them. It looked like he had a good relationship at the time, but you know how things can change."

Chapter 19

"All right, okay, I found them!" Manny shouted, sitting over the computer.

"Found who?" Cassey asked.

"Billy's wife and kid."

"Billy was really married then?"

"Yeah, and he has a daughter."

"When was this?"

"He was married in 1978, and his daughter was born in 1980. The last known address is San Diego."

"Not another trip? Manny, you're going overboard with this."

"I can't help it, it's getting to be more and more interesting."

"Well, at least use the darn phone, once in a while. People can tell their story just as well without you staring them down."

"You know I'm just looking for an excuse to get out of here. I can't take the cold anymore. Why don't you come with me this time?"

"Manny, I've got two committees on my butt this month so if I don't do it, it won't get done."

"You're just afraid to fly, admit it."

"Okay, so It scares the hell out of me, so what?"

"You never used to be. We talked about it; there are people that can help you with that."

"Look Manny, ever since Penny got killed in that plane, I don't know, it just freaks me out to think about getting on one again. These people you keep telling me to go to, do they run alongside the plane making sure that the wings don't fall off?"

"Oh, don't be silly."

"Silly, you expect me to listen to someone trying to convince me that it is okay to fly, and planes still crash. What I need is for somebody to guarantee me that the planes won't ever crash again, ever, and then I'll consider it. Besides, I don't hate the winter, you know that."

"I know, you love the seasons."

"Jealous?"

"I was back when I couldn't get away, but I still wouldn't mind you with me."

"Oh, we'll have all that time together after the snow melts. Besides, if you do die in a plane crash then there'll be people around to say, 'I told you so.'" Cassey stuck her tongue out at Manny. "Have you talked to that Tainer guy? I haven't heard anything back on the book we sent him."

"No, I told him to get in touch with you. He'll call, when he's ready. He said that they were extremely busy and it takes a couple of years to get a book to the public, even if it is good. I guess they have a lot going at the time."

"Well, I'm thinking of sending it to someone else, someone that has the time."

"Boy, you're impatient, you sound like this is your book," Manny laughed.

"I know, but in a way it is. I want to see Billy get his just reward for what he did."

"Are you getting emotionally involved?"

"You bet your ass. The more I find out, the more I want to see it through. I guess the book turned into my baby. I'm just wondering why this Mark is not taking an interest in Billy's work? Like I said, I'm thinking of maybe contacting another publisher."

"Cassey, if you think that's what you want to do, go ahead. It wouldn't hurt to have a second opinion, never does."

*

"Yes, Lucy Guterraz, Lucy Palmer, is my daughter." The old man blinked, looking out into the much brighter light, his deeply lined, ancient looking face and head the only thing Manny could see of him. Manny could see the blinds were mostly drawn, the house very dark behind the partially open door.

"Lucy 'was' my daughter," the old man added sadly.

The house Manny came to was an old, post WWII design, so familiar to this San Diego neighborhood. It was well kept, the yard clean, the grass neatly cut. A large shady tree in the front yard cut off the direct sunlight to the front porch, where Manny was standing. The house and street would be unremarkable, except that looking down the street, Manny could see the sparkling blue of the Pacific Ocean.

"Was? Oh no," Manny hesitated, the comment catching him off guard. "I'm sorry, I, a, I'm not sure what to say. Do you mean she's dead?" Manny's voice betrayed his shock and sadness. He had been very excited about finding Billy's wife.

"Yes," the man said morosely. He was very old and frail, holding on to the partially open door for support.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea she was dead," Manny stammered, uncertain how to continue, or maybe duck out. "I am so sorry to trouble you, but I was once a close friend of Billy Palmer's. I am at the right place?"

A sad little smile appeared on the dated face. "Yes, I know Billy. He was married to my daughter for almost ten years."

"Ah, I don't know how to continue here, could I come in? I just want to find out about Billy, anything you could tell me?"

"It's such a nice day out, I could come out if you wish?" the old man said. "It's so dreary in the house." The old man fully opened the door, waiting for Manny to agree to his request.

"By all means, I'm just in from Minnesota, and it's great to feel warm weather," Manny said agreeably

The old man stepped on to the porch and pointed to a couple of chairs. "Please sit down Mr. . . ?"

"Anderson, but just Manny, if you don't mind."

"Nice to meet you Manny. I'm Wendell. Funny name for a Mexican, huh?" Wendell said, hobbling to one chair. "But my family has been here for generations. Your friend Billy was a very good man. I have missed him, but after what happened to my Lucy, he couldn't get past it and he, he never came back. He would call from time to time, but he never came back to this street. He is dead, right?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Billy was a dead man for many years, in his spirit," Wendell said with a deep sigh. "I had a premonition a while ago that his body had finally joined his soul. You know, some people say I am a strange old man, but if I try hard enough, I can see my Lucy playing in the street, right out there." The old man pointed to the street. "I can really see her. Sometimes I can see Billy sitting there." The old man pointed to the love seat at the far end of the porch. "I can see Billy with Lucy sitting on his lap, laughing, enjoying each other. They were meant to be together."

"He loved his wife then?" Manny asked.

"Oh yes, and Jasmine," Wendell perked up, "oh, the dear sweet little girl." He looked out to the street and sat still not speaking. "They are both dead now, for eight years," he finally said, his voice quavering.

"My god, I didn't mean to just show up on your door step and rehash something so obviously painful for you," Manny apologized profusely. "I am so sorry."

"But, Manny, it is good to talk about the Saints you have known," Wendell countered. "It does an old man good to discuss the bright times in his twilight years."

"What happened?" Manny asked.

"Lucy was murdered, and little Jasmine too. An evil man, high on drugs broke into their apartment when Lucy and Jasmine were there, alone. They never figured out if this man didn't know anyone was home, or just didn't care, because he was surely out of his mind. Killed them both, a mother and her daughter for less than sixty dollars."

"Jesus, no wonder Billy was so elusive the last time I saw him. How could anyone function after something like that?" Manny exclaimed. "No wonder he looked beaten, really down. I was shocked, I never thought Billy could be so subdued, and now I know why."

"Yes, he did blame himself for not being there. At first I was worried that he would go after this evil man, this El Diablo, but Billy said that it would not bring them back. I am not a violent man, but when I saw what it did to him, I changed my mind. I told Billy that to save his spirit, he maybe should taste the revenge, but he said no, that the laws were meant for everybody.

"You want to hear the saddest part of this tragedy?" Wendell continued. "This evil man that killed a mother and her daughter, my family, was supposed to be a Viet Nam veteran, just like Billy Palmer. This man was on full disability, claiming that his flash-backs prevented him from holding a job. Before he gets to trial, he pleads guilty by reason of insanity. The well-meaning States Attorney takes the plea, and they send this man to a mental hospital, based on his VA evaluation, which says that he is mentally unstable because of his war experience. Meanwhile, the detective assigned to the case is reading a book called Stolen Valor, are you familiar with it Manny?"

"Yes, I know the book."

"Yes, I don't have to explain it then. This detective decides to check this man out and he finds this man, Eddy Crane, has never been in Vietnam. This man has never even been in the service. This man has lied about everything. The VA would not admit their mistake, officially, and this man continues to get his full disability. It is a very confusing system we have Manny."

"You can't make much sense to a bureaucrat."

"I was with the diplomatic corps for many years, Manny. I came to realize that politics is a very flawed form of governing, that is for sure. But, it gets even worse Manny. After six years, the state doctors say this evil man is all better and can go home, with his full disability of course.

"Of course," Manny said.

"The only vindication in this saga is that the man hasn't killed anyone else. At least, not as far as we know."

"Who is this guy? Do you know where he is now?"

"Yes, I think so. The detective keeps track of him the best he can, but it is difficult. The authorities say they can't give this information out. They must protect his identity and location, you know, for his safety. I can never forget him. I am an old man, Manny, and I don't have long to live, but if someone younger could take up my cause?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Guterraz, I know you're very angry and rightfully so, but I'm not the sort of person to take up a vendetta. I have a family of my own."

"Oh no Manny, Billy was right of course, but I would like to see this man at least be deprived of his ill-gotten gains, that is all."

"Mr. Guterraz, I don't know what I can do? I'm just a business man and I have no expertise for that sort of thing. I stay as far away from officialdom as I can because they frustrate the hell out of me."

"Yes, I understand Manny." Wendell looked out to the street with a vacant look. "It was wrong of me to infer—"

Manny detected a faint smile forming on Mr. Gutteraz's face, his attention still focused on the street.

Poor old man, his memories are all that keep him going. Manny watched the old man, thinking of how to extract himself from the situation. I feel so bad for this old guy, I hate to just up and leave."

A very faint sound from the street caused Manny to shift his gaze, looking under the tree, out to the blacktop. I thought I might have heard children playing, but there's no one there.

The old man chuckled, causing Manny to look back at him. Mr. Guterraz had a broad smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.

I heard it again, children out there, playing. Manny looked intently to where he thought the children should be. But, there's no one there.

"Do you hear them?" Mr. Guterraz asked.

"Who?" Manny asked, slightly spooked. "What's happening here?"

"There, in the street, my daughter and her child, they are there." Mr. Guterraz pointed out under the tree. "They want you to see how beautiful they were. They know you were a friend of Billy's and they want you to see them. Look, Manny, look hard and you will."

This crazy old coot is batty for christ sakes. He's scaring the shit out of me.

"Listen Manny, do you hear them?"

"Them, I can't believe thi—" Manny sat up suddenly, straightening in his seat.

"There Manny, there, they want you to see them." The old man's voice was soothing and mesmerizing.

Manny stared intently, listening.

Something's out there, I can hear so—. My god, that's got to be just the heat!" Manny exclaimed, staring at the street, watching something.

"No Manny Anderson, that is Billy's wife and child. He would want you to do this for him. The man to see is Detective Sergeant Albright. He has an office downtown, I'll get his number."

*

Manny left Wendell Guterraz's humble home, shook up. At first, driving in the rental car, he tried and tried to dispel what had happened. His first line of defense was his reputation for being realistic. He was a Sagittarius and although he personally dismissed most of the heavy sales pitch attached to the practice of astrology, he did use the personality traits of his sign to his advantage. It was easy and convenient to attribute his aloofness and individualistic qualities to his sign, without having to explain his actions. Being a Sagittarius, being the explorer, complimented his mystic. Cassey knew what he was up to, and that made it all the easier.

Manny was a realist and as hard as he tried to pass the incident with Wendell off as unexplainable, or the product of a tired, over imaginative mind, he kept coming back to the fact that he had been there, and he had witnessed something very strange.

Wendell either enticed me to see what he wanted, or there really was a phenomenon in that street.

After driving around aimlessly for nearly an hour, Manny found himself cruising slowly along a street next to the ship channel leading from the port of San Diego to the Pacific Ocean. It was getting dark and the fog was rolling in, advancing from seaward. Manny parked the car and got out, breathing in the salty, damp air. The moisture laden atmosphere quickly surrounded him, the entire car already coated with a thick, wet layer of condensation.

So many different places in this world. Manny took in a deep breath. All this water, but it doesn't smell like any lake and I'm used to that.

Manny walked toward the ship channel. He could hear the buoy bells clanging, but could barely see some lights out over the water. By the time he had gotten as far as the side walk running along the channel, only smell and sound remained, the fog was so thick.

Guterraz you old bugger, what happened back there? Did you do something to me or was it real? I should be angry or scared, but I'm not. You set me up you old shit, and now I have to find out."

Manny stood motionless, many thoughts going through his head.

In the jungle it's so dark you can't see a thing so your eyes are worthless, so you must use the other senses. It is not the kind of situation that you can afford to be out of touch with your surroundings. Tainer's words suddenly popped into his head.

*

At five the next morning, Manny was standing in the same spot, having spent a restless night in his hotel room. The fog was still there, as heavy as it had been when he left the night before. He had been memorizing the sounds and the locations and now they were familiar to him.

He stood quietly analyzing each sound, forming a picture in his mind. As it began to get light he strained to see, but the fog still shrouded everything. His first visual were the rocks running from the sidewalk down into the mist toward the sound of the lapping water.

Patience, Manny, patience.

A small black object between two rocks was a blob, indefinable, until it moved. When it did, it became a crab. The colorless, pulpy substance near it became seaweed, long after Manny had first smelled it. It was minutes before the water gurgling in between the rocks was recognizable, but as it did, Manny already had an image in his head and knew what to expect. The sound of the waves farther out were no surprise, they looked just as they had sounded. Each object, moving farther and farther out from him, a buoy bell, a small ship heading out to sea, only the running lights showing. Then a much larger ship that he could hear pushing through the water, he knew what they would look like before he could see them.

As they came into view, the sky was getting lighter and the fog thinning. Manny, for the first time in his life was getting familiar with his surroundings. He had become one with this little part of the world. Then he realized he had experienced the calmness, the confidence, the thrill before. Occasionally, when everything was gelling, everything clicking, everything going his way; he felt this on the golf course. Manny never before surmised exactly why he loved the game so much.

Thank you Wendell, I owe you one.

*

Manny drove from the ship channel into downtown San Diego with a calm determination. Manny was at the police station early and waiting for Detective Albright as he arrived. The desk Sergeant indicated Manny to the Detective and Albright walked over.

"What can I do for you first thing in the morning?" The detective asked, somewhat suspicious.

"You were an investigator in the Palmer homicides, a few years back?"

"One of them, what's your interest?"

"Billy Palmer, the father, was a friend of mine."

"Rough deal, he ever get over it?"

"I don't know, he never mentioned it. He died a month ago, and I'm taking up the cause. Boy, do I sound pushy."

"And, what cause is that?"

"The man that murdered his family was a fraud."

"Most murderers can fit that bill."

"This Eddy Crane, was, is getting Vet benefits, illegally."

"Not according to the VA, he's not, illegally, I mean. They bought his story hook line and sinker. Who told you all this?

"Mr. Guterraz."

"Nice man, how is he doing?"

"He's doing, but he misses his daughter and granddaughter. Not much left that late in life. Too late to start over when it comes to a family."

"Yeah, I guess it would be."

"You investigated Mr. Crane's service record and found none."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the matter."

"Why's that?"

"We're a government agency, same as the VA."

"Look, Detective, I know you tried to do something concerning Mr. Crane; and I can surely realize it wouldn't be difficult for one segment of the government to make it difficult for another segment, to make waves."

"You understand a lot Mr. . . ?"

"Anderson, Manny."

"Well, understand this Manny. I was sick when I found out about it all, and I was going to do something about this fraudulent pension, but I was instructed to drop the case. It was over, the man was sentenced, and the file was closed."

"I understand, makes sense to me. Give me the information I need and I will pick up where you left off."

"Impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. There are certain things that need to be done, and I will see this accomplished, with or without your help. I was hoping there would be some satisfaction for you in knowing that I was so determined. Believe me Detective Albright, it will get done. I'm staying at the downtown Radisson, room four-one-eight. Thank you for your time Detective."

"You know that nice old man is getting you to do this for him?"

"I do things of my own accord."

"My colleague thinks Mr. Guterraz is a warlock. He can make people see things. What did he get you to see, Mr. Anderson?"

"The need to do something," was all Manny said as he turned away from the detective. Manny didn't want the cop to see the cold sweat and shivers that had overcome him from the detective's comment about Wendell's control.

Manny had a message waiting for him when he returned to the hotel. It had an address for Yuma, Arizona and nothing more.

Chapter 20

Manny rented another car and drove east from San Diego, arriving in Yuma just as the sun was setting. Hopefully the detective gave Manny the location of Eddy Crane.

Manny was surprised as he sat in the rental car, parked next to a school, looking at the house supposedly owned by Eddy Crane. It was a surprise that a multiple murder should be able to reside in such a nice neighborhood, and be able to live in a fine house like the one he was looking at. My god, how some people manage to come out smelling like roses no matter what they do.

"I guess, being housed and fed for seven years, while on the full dole, adds up," Manny said to himself, disgusted.

Manny sat in the car for half an hour, mostly watching the beautiful desert twilight. When it was fully dark he started the car and drove off, deciding to get a motel and some sleep. He wasn't sure what he'd do in the morning.

*

At first light, Manny was back at the address, this time driving past the Crane residence. The garage door was up, and he saw a dark pickup inside.

"Well, bingo!" Manny said to himself because the name on the mail box said E. Crane.

Manny drove by the house and went down the street, a ways, and was turning around when he saw the pickup back out of the garage and into the street. Manny hurriedly drove up behind the truck and honked.

"Are you Edward Crane?" he asked as he pulled alongside, his driver's side window next to the open passenger window of the truck.

"Who's asking?" Edward Crane was old and mean looking, dressed in dirty unkept clothes. It's hard to tell his physical stature sitting there in the truck, but the hands are skinny and weak looking."

"I am!" Manny announced. The frailty of this man doesn't seem the least bit intimidating to me.

"Leave me alone!"

"Then I assume 'that' you are Edward Crane?"

"Assuming the wrong thing can get you in trouble Mister!"

"Is that a threat?"

"Leave me alone Mister. I'm not going to tell you again!" Crane said, starting to reach under the seat of the truck.

"I would assume; someone with your record would not consider having a gun under that seat. Talk about trouble!" Manny surprised himself. He wasn't sure if it was seeing just an old man, or the things this guy had done that was driving him to be so bold, but it was working. Eddy Crane sat up straight, putting both hands back on the steering wheel.

"Now, I'm looking for Edward Crane, I'm interested in his story."

"What story would that be?"

"I've heard the Edward Crane I'm looking for is a highly decorated veteran. That he was dealt some injustices in his life, that same Edward Crane."

"I served my country with valor, and they took no responsibility for what they did to me."

This guy has some balls, either that, or he's been lying so long he really believes it."

"If that's what you're wondering?" Crane continued, taking the bait.

"Then you might be the Edward Crane I'm looking for?"

"Might be, might not. What have you got for the right Edward Crane?"

"A chance to hear his story told correctly, and maybe some monetary gain."

"You got a driver's license, something to tell me who you are?"

Manny hesitated, not wanting this man to know who he was, where he lived. I should have planned this out better, but I've got Crane's ear, and I don't want to lose this opportunity. Manny took out his driver's license and handed it to Crane through the window of the pickup.

"I think it is a shame the way the returning vets were treated," Manny said quickly, while reaching out for his license back. "I think they should be compensated, as much as possible, don't you?" he stated, as Crane gave him the license back. Manny was relieved because Crane didn't seem to look at the license long, just matching Manny to the photo.

"That war was really terrible for me," Crane whined.

Manny's spine shivered because Crane sounded like a spoiled little girl.

"I can't get over what they made me do. I had to do a lot of killing. It was real hard on me. I haven't been right since then. Can't sleep right, it's just terrible what they made me do. I can't get over the babies I had to kill. I remember this one little girl, it was so awful. I suppose you know about my problems, but none of it was my fault after what I had to do. They owe me."

"Yes, Mr. Crane, I don't doubt you deserve something far different than what you're getting now. Good day, I'll be in touch." Manny stepped down hard on the accelerator, wanting to put distance between himself and this disgusting man.

Chapter 21

Manny was at the computer working diligently, when Cassey entered the room.

"What's got your total attention, I've never seen you work so hard?" Cassey asked.

"I'm working on a letter to the VA. I just got off the phone with Senator Blake. I informed him off the discrepancy regarding this Edward Crane's disability claim.

"Manny, isn't this getting a little overboard?"

"This guy murdered Billy's wife and daughter."

"But you might be getting too involved, don't you think? Besides, you said this guy was a nut. Do you really want him in your life?"

"He's not going to be in my life, I just want to right a wrong."

"Things have a way of happening, Anderson," Cassey lectured. "I just think you should leave well enough alone."

"The guy killed Billy's wife and kid."

"You already said that! I don't see what this is going to accomplish for Billy?"

"Lucy's father told me this guy was, and still is, collecting full disability payments from the VA, and was never even in the service."

"Manny, how can that be?"

"Remember that book I wanted you to read, the Stolen Valor one."

"I read a little. It was boring and I couldn't finish."

"But you got the gist of it, right?"

"I guess, but there are a lot of books on this theory or that. Doesn't mean that they have any validity."

"Lucy's father gave me the name of the detective that worked the case and he verifies that this guy, Edward Crane, was never in the service. This guy's lawyer got him off with an insanity plea using his VA records which classified him as suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome, brought on by his service in Vietnam, which the VA refuses to acknowledge never happened. I want the VA to correct the issue."

"Manny, this guy kills people, and you are going to do what to him?"

"We pay taxes, and I'll be damned if I am going to stand by and see this sort of injustice. Damnit, this lying sack of shit destroyed Billy's happiness, and then uses the very system that was put in place to help guys like Billy. It's an injustice of unparalleled magnitude, and I'm going to do something about it."

"I thought it was supposed to be us that did the horrible thing to Billy? Now you've conveniently found someone else to pass the blame to. This Billy escapade you've take on, don't you think it might be moving into the excessive stage? You might want to consider that," Cassey scolded. "Also consider, this guy is dangerous, and you're talking about screwing him, big time. I don't know Manny, I thought this was a harmless diversion for you, but it's taking on a life of its own. I don't want my life complicated. I'm really quite happy, you know. Don't ruin that for me Manny. I will never forgive you, I promise."

"I'm going to be careful Cassey. I just need to do this. I don't want this sort of thing happening, and no one doing a thing about it."

"Why doesn't this father do anything, it was his daughter and granddaughter?"

"He's old and tired and losing his family did him in. He had very nice things to say about Billy, really misses him."

"Billy stayed in touch with him?"

"I guess, sporadically, but according to Mr. Guterraz, that's the father, Billy and his daughter had a good relationship and cared deeply for each other. Wendell says that the life went out of Billy when she was murdered. Remember, he lost his little girl too and I guess he was very close to her. Jennifer was her name, here's a picture of them both." Manny took a photo he had in with his papers and handed it to Cassey.

Cassey took the photo and looked at it for a long time. "Why did you do this to me?" Cassey finally said, sounding very sad.

"Do what?" Manny asked, looking up from the computer.

"Emotionally blindsided me with this?" Cassey said, holding out the picture, still looking at it.

"I don't get what you're saying?"

"I don't know how to explain it, I, uh, I just can't explain it. This picture is so profoundly sad. Not the picture, I mean. It's a beautiful picture." Cassey looked intently at the photo. "These are two beautiful people." Cassey pointed to the photo. "But they're dead." Cassey said nothing, just stared at the photo, silently. After about a minute, she said with reverence. "And I never got to meet them."

"It's a powerful picture, isn't it?"

"It's just a picture of a beautiful woman and her daughter, why does it pull at me so?"

"I means that Billy had his good times, even after we shunned his friendship. He went on his way and found happiness without us."

"Is that it? Do you really think so Manny? Here we are working on this massive guilt trip, and it turns out it wasn't necessary? Here's proof that Billy probably just got tired of us and our silliness and went his way. I sort of got the same feeling as I read that story of his. He didn't need us or our silly shit. We didn't deal him a crappy hand that mattered. We just didn't realize the depth of Billy, and we're the ones that lost?"

"My god Cassey, do you think we might be approaching maturity?"

"Manny, if that happens, who will we associate with?" Cassey laughed. "What did the Senator say?"

"He wants confirmation. Says if he gets it, our man Crane will be looking for work."

"He's a bad man Manny, I just can't get past that thought."

"There's no way he can find us," Manny stated, but he was uncomfortable with the statement.

*

On the radio the weather forecaster was saying, "It looked like the central portion of Minnesota can expect a balmy day.

Balmy, balmy for late December in Minnesota, what a smuck. Poor dumb asses that get stuck here all winter might go for it."

"Partly sunny with highs in the mid-thirties, but look out for tomorrow ladies and gents," the cheerful voice on the radio continued, "it's back to the winter we're all accustomed too. A cold front is moving down from our neighbor to the North and we can expect snow and cold by tomorrow."

Now that's more like it." Manny was in the kitchen getting coffee. It was still dark outside, but he was up, his mind on overdrive.

"It looks like we will have that customary white, white Christmas," ended the weatherman, Christmas music replacing him.

"No shit, Sherlock! The white, white is piled higher than my ass out there," Manny said, looking out the kitchen window. He could see the first light of morning through the bare trees at the end of the yard. The ringing phone made him turn away.

"Hello, North Pole, if you're looking for Santa, he quit and went to Florida," Manny answered.

"Are you still a smart ass in the summer, or are there other things to occupy that troubled mind?" the voice on the other end replied.

"Always troubled, but busier, less focused. This sounds like a publisher I know. What's your excuse for getting me out of bed?"

"It must be warm in there, what are you complaining about?"

"You wouldn't believe it Tainer, high of thirty-five on the glacier today."

"Well, there you go, you've got nothing to bitch about."

"Cold and snow tomorrow, what's up?"

"Your wife called me yesterday, but I was sorry to inform her that I haven't really had the time to get into the book you sent me. One of my readers said that there might be something there, but these things take time. We need to be realistic, tell her that, will you."

"Cassey can be a determined bugger when she gets into something and it can be hard to head her off."

"Just tell her to be patient, give me a little time, okay. Look, I'm calling to invite you to New York, on my dime."

"When we talking about? I just got back from California and Arizona."

"Tomorrow, if possible. I know with the holidays coming up it might be squeezing things, but I really would like to sit down with you and talk about Billy."

"I thought you were too busy to work on Billy's things?"

"I want to talk about Palmer, not his writing, can you make it?"

"I guess, but it should only be a day or two. I have to look like I'm trying to enjoy the holidays and I have to be close to home to pull that off."

"I understand. You come in tomorrow and out the next day, how's that?"

"I guess I can get away with it."

"Good, Minneapolis, Northwest tomorrow evening, flight 213, 7:45 P.M., can you pull that off.

"Yeah, it's about three hours from here to the airport, so no problemo."

*

"Jesus Manny," Cassey whined. "Another trip? You just got back. Where to now?"

"Just a short trip to New York, some business to take care of before the holidays. I'm going and coming, short trip, I promise."

"Well, it better be short because I've got a ton of things to do. You know this is the first family Christmas in three years. Both the boys will be here, and I don't know when that will happen again."

"Cassey, I promise, I'll be back Thursday night. There is no way I'm staying any longer than a day.

"You going to see Mark Tainer?"

"I don't know." He was uncertain why he had to lie about his real reason. He wasn't doing anything wrong, but he didn't want Cassey getting mad, accusing him about being obsessed with Billy Palmer after her dressing him down about Crane. "I might give him a call."

"Well, tell him to poop or get off the pot."

"Now Cassey, he's a busy man. I'm sure when he's ready, or has something, you'll be the first to know."

"I talked to Caroline Jennings, her daughter had that book published, remember?" Cassey didn't continue.

"And?" Manny knew his cue.

"And Mattie said we might be able to talk to her publisher, after the holidays."

"Hey, do what you want, you're the one that's done all the work."

Chapter 22

New York City's weather didn't look much better than what he left in Minnesota, Manny decided, looking out the window of Mark Tainer's office.

"I'm sorry about not having anything to tell Cassey about the book, I hope you understand that it takes time," Mark was saying.

"No, don't worry, I understand. Cassey isn't business minded. She can get impatient, and like I said, it can be hard to distract her sometimes. She's contacting some other publishers."

"What?" Tainer exclaimed, obviously excited. "Don't do that, I want this material!"

"Well, I just figured that being as busy as you say, you wouldn't mind."

"I don't like people playing politics with me," Tainer stated, obviously angry.

"I don't understand what you mean by playing politics?"

"Using pressure on me."

"What pressure? Geez man, Cassey just figured; if you're so busy she would take a load off you by talking to someone else."

"When did she do this?" Tainer asked quickly.

"She hasn't done anything yet." Manny held his hands up trying to calm Tainer. "We just talked about it, and with the holidays around the corner it was something she was going to get to after the first of the year, but I am curious; If you haven't read Billy's stuff, why the excitement about it going somewhere else?"

"Manny, I know it's good, my reader verified that, but it takes a long time. Billy was my buddy and I better than anyone should do this. I'm very interested with doing something about Billy. I've always wanted to write the great story, but never had the time, or until now, the material."

"But you've always known the story, you were there with him."

"Manny, the total story of Billy. That's why I invited you here, to pick your brain on Palmer, to piece his life together."

"Oh, the whole thing. I get it now. That's why you want funny stuff I remembered about Billy."

"Yes, Billy was a verifiable hero, but war stories about heroes tell so little about how that hero came to be and what happened after. I want to do a complete story."

"Ahhhh, well let me think. There was so much it's hard to—"

"Just off the top of your head?"

Manny thought for a moment. "One time we were in a restaurant down at the lake. It was Sunday morning and the place was full of people coming from church. We had been at the lake water skiing and went to get something to eat. It was Billy, Cassey, and my girlfriend at the time. We were waiting in line, and for some reason I decided to play a joke on Billy. I pulled his swimming trunks down right there in the restaurant. I figured he'd just pull them up quickly and that we'd get a good laugh. Anyway, Billy just stood there, looking at me with this smirk on his face, bare assed naked. I didn't know what to do because he just stood there, swim trunks down around his knees, everyone in the restaurant gawking or gasping. Cassey finally pulled his trunks back up. One of the waitresses had seen me do it, and the manager came over and threw me out. I was hungrier than hell, and it was the only place open in that whole damn town. I can remember sitting in the car all by myself, feeling like some little boy that was being punished. When did you get to know Palmer?"

"I went through boot camp with Billy, but I didn't really associate with him then. We had mostly Texas, Louisiana, and Arkansas boys in our platoon, and Billy was a northerner. He was kind of a loner type, but he got along okay. I think the only attitude toward him was, he was smart. He got quite a bit of attention from one of the DI's. This wiry little DI was always fucking with Billy, trying to get him to laugh, then he'd end up doing squat thrusts. We all thought Billy was backwoods, being from some small hick town in Minnesota. I remember he was fast as hell and really tough. One night some of the down home boys tried to give him a blanket party, and he knocked a couple of them around pretty good. After, I asked him if he did much fighting back home, and he said he had been playing hockey since he was four. I didn't put two and two together until I watched a hockey game a couple of years later."

"After boot camp we went home for a month, and then one month of ITR training before Vietnam. Billy and I were in the same group in ITR. Most of my friends from boot camp went somewhere else, so Palmer was kind of a familiar face. He also had some cousins that lived in the LA. area, just up the highway from Camp Pendleton where we were. There were five of them, all good looking girls and they would come and get Billy for the weekends, so naturally he was a good choice for a buddy, if you know what I mean?"

"I definitely hung around with him after our survival training. He could figure out things; he knew the ropes. At the end of the training they had this exercise where they stuck us on this road, about fifty of us. The object was to go from this road, into the brush, and make it to another road about ten miles away. There was nothing between the two, but thick brush, trees, gullies, ravines and all kinds of nasty shit. There were aggressor teams all throughout the route, and if you got captured, you spent the weekend in their stockade where they could interrogate you. I heard that was really fun. All they gave you were two canteens full of water and a K-bar, that's a big ass knife. If and when you got to the other road, if you did, you could get a ride back to the camp and check out for liberty for the weekend. This started Thursday morning, so you might end up spending the night out there if you didn't make the second road the first day."

"The rules said that if you captured a rattlesnake it was a free pass, you just brought it to the first observer and you were out of there, gone for the entire weekend. We knew about this and Billy had done his homework. He found a guy that hunted snakes in that area."

"We get the go ahead and everybody heads into the trees, but Billy goes about twenty feet, stops and cuts a branch, takes a coil of thin rope out of his pocket and makes a hoop contraption. Then he makes a fork thing with another branch, finds the kind of spot this guy told him to look for, and ten minutes later, viola, he's got two rattlesnakes. We must have dug about ten of them out of this bank, and ten minutes later we are back on the road with our go-to-fun passes. This thing started at seven in the morning and by ten, Billy and I are heading off base for a long weekend. Almost half the guys didn't get back until Sunday night after the aggressors let them go. I guess it was no picnic. I decided right there to stick close to Billy."

"I was wondering how Billy got wounded, you were there?" Manny asked.

"Yeah, all three times," Tainer said. "I never did get hit myself, can't figure out why I was so lucky. I guess Billy exposed himself more, and I was more of a chicken, but extremely lucky for sure. One of the older guys in the section, he was there before us, told me that he had smelled a bullet go by. I said, "Yeah, right," and passed it off as BS. One day a round went just under my nose, the snap got my attention and I could smell the cordite."

"I wish Hollywood could get that part right," Tainer continued. "There are two things that piss me off about the way they make movies. One is the actors are always cocking their guns, you know, to let the audience know something is going to happen. The Macho-man move. That's such bullshit! Any idiot that walks around without a bullet in the chamber is not going to last very long. And two, when a high powered round passes, it doesn't whine, or buzz, it snaps. The bullet is traveling faster than the speed of sound and the sonic boom is real evident. When somebody shoots at you, the first thing you hear is the snap, right where the bullet passes and then the boom from the gun because the bullet gets to you before the sound from the gun."

"The first time Billy got wounded, it was kind of my fault. We were with a platoon, like five days after they had shipped us up to Con Tien. It used to be this old French Fort sitting on top of a plateau overlooking the river to North Viet Nam. We had been out in the bush for three days, kind of scouting the area. We were heading back in and ran into this platoon also going back in. We hooked up with them and damn if they weren't told to stop and spend the night a couple of clicks short of the base. We didn't want to try getting back in at night because the crazy fuckers on the line would shoot at anything after it got dark. Seeing we didn't carry radios, it was always the best to go in with units that did. So we started to dig in, but the ground was harder than hell. Billy dug out about two feet, and then I took over. I got lazy and figured it was enough. The VC hit us with mortars that night, and I got in the hole first, but it wasn't deep enough and a piece of shrapnel caught Billy in the back of the neck. He wasn't hurt too bad or anything, just bleeding like hell. They called in choppers to get the two KIA's and four wounded. He was gone for about four days, came back with a big bandage on his neck and a purple heart."

"He never said anything to me, but it was a big screw up on my part. From that time on, I never took anything for granted. I could have gotten him killed just by being lazy."

"That place Con Tien, like I said, was an old French Fort. When we got there it was really pretty, this old stone fort all broken down, but covered with vines and moss. After we left three months later it was nothing but a pile of mud. Between us and our bunkers and trenches, and the NVA pounding the place with mortars and artillery it was kind of sad looking."

"The second time was just a nasty cut on his hand. We spotted an ambush developing, the Walsh one, and after it was over Billy's hand was bloody. He didn't even know he was hit. The corpsman fixed it right there."

"The third time was a beaut, a cluster fuck from the word go. We're on this landing strip, a whole battalion, four companies of Marines waiting to be loaded on choppers for a big operation. It was hotter than hell, and we sat there from eight in the morning, and by noon, half the Marines were sick from the heat or being scared. The original plan was to start dropping the first elements in first thing in the morning. That way they could get the whole battalion in by dark. At noon, nobody had even seen a chopper. Billy's saying, 'Boy this is going to be fun, great bunch of warriors we have here.' We knew where we were going, it was a bad, bad place, Billy and I, and a couple of the other teams had gone in there. We had scoped it out. It was not a good place for large operations, a narrow valley, one way in, one way out. We had found bunkers on both sides of the valley, and worst of all, only one LZ."

"Finally, at almost twelve thirty the Chinooks show up, they're the big twin rotor choppers. A big, big target. The first group loads up at one, six Chinooks, with fifteen Marines apiece. The first group is dropped in the LZ at one thirty, and it's hotter than hell. The guys put on the ground have more than half their water gone already. Within half an hour, fifty percent of the people on the ground are down with heat stroke."

"We go in the second group. Billy and I loaded in the rear of the chopper right next to the ramp, on purpose. Billy and I both know the supposed LZ and are wondering what's up when the choppers go right over it and continue up the valley, dropping altitude. As the bird flares, it starts taking hits, shit flying around inside, then a big fireball above our heads, up in the turbines. Billy goes out the door, and I follow, a long jump of about thirty feet into a flooded rice paddy. We start the day totally covered in stinking mud. The Chinook pilot did a hell of a job and kept the wounded bird upright, smashing hard into the edge of the paddy."

"We didn't know the extent of the casualties because Billy and I headed to the other side of the paddy to set up a perimeter. The rest of day is spent getting the heat stroke and combat casualties out, and a few supplies in. The NVA didn't harass us at all the rest of the day and that night, but Billy and I, and one other team had moved up into the high ground and spotted a lot of activity. Nothing major, but we got glimpses of small NVA units moving all around us. It was obvious that we were surrounded so we refrained from shooting."

"What had happened; was the geniuses planning the operation had changed the LZ at the last moment, moving it father up the valley. They didn't realize that the low clouds didn't burn off until later in the day, the farther up the valley they went. That was the reason for the big delay. So here we sit, less than a fourth of the planned number on the ground, and a whole night for the North Vietnamese to plan a big reception for the next day.

"And get this, they still planned on bringing in the rest of the battalion at day break. They couldn't put two and two together and figure out that the next day was going to be the same, socked in until at least noon."

"That night we moved down to the valley, ready to hook up with the first unit we could find. We were looking for some kind of defensive position and some Marines to help us hold on to it.

We found a platoon from H company, Lieutenant Wynn was the officer. He was cool, had about six months in country. If you had something to say, he listened. He was also concerned because he was originally supposed to be the left flank, but with all the screw-ups, he was just trying to make some sort of position. He laughed when we reported what we knew, telling us that the original operational plans were still in effect, even though we had been dropped seven miles away from the original LZ. In the morning, the powers that be figured we could all just pack up and get to where we were supposed to be, on foot. Wynn wasn't too happy when we informed him of all the activity we had spotted."

"We tell Wynn, 'We are in big trouble, expect lots of casualties.' Wynn says he suspects we're right, but he can't stop it, no one listens to a lowly lieutenant. We confer: Billy, myself, the other team, Wilkes and a new guy Sanders, and tell Wynn that it's likely that the NVA are planning something. 'Don't expect them to just hit and run in the morning.' He gets his orders, move out at dawn, and we just laugh. We know we aren't going anywhere the NVA don't want us to, and it is going to be impossible to get air cover until at least noon. We tell him, 'God damnit Wynn. they're waiting for you.'"

"At day break, Wynn splits up his force, sending two separate groups to look for a defensive position. He actually disobeys orders, and doesn't head for the original LZ. He's a smart guy that ends up saving many his men that day. That night, he informed us that almost half of his men were green, five on their first field trip."

"We had spotted a small rise covered in grass the day before, and our group went to check it out. If we could dig in there it would be the best place. This all depended on whether the NVA were already there or not. We scoped the hill from a mile and didn't see any movement, but that didn't guarantee anything. We had to cross this narrow paddy to get there and going across we started taking fire. If the NVA are on the hill to the front we are in deep shit, but we get lucky and get the hill. There are some experienced guys in the group and they start to dig in."

"The squad leader called Wynn, telling him to head our way, now! Wynn makes it to the paddy and starts across taking heavy fire from his rear. We've got a good position and hold the NVA away from him. I don't think the NVA following him expected us to be able to get hits at half a mile. Wynn gets across with only a couple of casualties, nothing life threatening."

"By ten o'clock we are dug in good, and Wynn has told his men that it looks good, despite the obvious fact that some of the other units are engaged in heavy fighting. We can hear it over the radio, and the sounds of battle fill the valley. Wynn calls in a couple of artillery rounds just to spot and mark as a precaution."

"Just before eleven the shit hits the fan. There are NVA all over us. By three that afternoon Wynn is dead, he exposed himself continually playing Lieutenant until he got it. Billy's been hit twice, once in the elbow, once a glancing blow in the chest, but is still fighting, yelling 'Bip!' every time he drops one. Sanders is dead, he was shot in the back. He couldn't pull himself up to fight anymore so he loaded empty magazines until he died. Wilkes is out of action, bad head wound, and more than half of Wynn's men are down. By some miracle I'm still unscratched. It got so intense the sounds of the battle were drowned out. I could only sense the mechanical clicking of the 16 as I fired and fired. I found a target, pulled the trigger, the rifle clacked, jumped a little, and I looked for the next target. We got intensive air cover about then, and the NVA broke off."

"The rest of the night we spent hunkered down, expecting the worst, but it never came. The night action was farther down the valley. I think we were about the only prepared position in the whole damn mess, and the NVA took too many casualties trying to get to us and went after easier targets that night."

"They got us out by midmorning the next day, the Dust Offs coming in through the soup. Billy was taken to a hospital, and that was the last time I saw him, until he came to see us a couple of years later. I kind of laid low the rest of my tour, about six weeks, and went home a happy man."

"Did you know Billy had gotten married?" Manny asked.

"No, he hadn't the last time I talked to him."

"Yeah, had a little girl too. They were both murdered."

Manny tells Tainer the story. Then about his going to Yuma and meeting with the man that did it, Eddy Crane."

"You looked this guy up, are you nuts?"

"I couldn't help myself," Manny said, sheepishly. "Before I knew it, I was there talking to him. I didn't know what else to do."

"Boy, if you're going to get in the information gathering business you need to plan things out a little better. That man could be dangerous!"

"I doubt if he suspected me."

"I'm sure he's going to wonder if he doesn't hear from you, or are you planning to contact him again?"

"No, no, I just wanted to see what a man that could do those things would look like. I guess my curiosity got the best of me."

"I don't know Manny, exposing yourself like that isn't too smart? I hope you're right, but don't be surprised if he shows up. After all you did offer him something. He's going to expect you to come through. When are you planning to go back home?" Tainer asked.

"Well, you got me the return for tonight, I guess I'll take that one."

"Look, I've got some time tomorrow, middle of the day. Why don't you stay until tomorrow evening, we can get together again? You probably need to start your Christmas shopping. I know I always put mine off until the last minute. New York's a great place to shop."

"Yeah, you're right about that. I could probably get something really special for Cassey. I need to let her know I still love her, and not Billy, considering the time I've spend on this adventure."

"Great, it's all set then. I'll have my secretary take care of it. Look, I feel bad about getting you to stay over and then not be able to spend any time with you tonight, but I am really tied up. I have prior commitments that would bore the hell out of you. Give me your room and cell number and if I can get free, I'll call."

"Oh, don't worry, New York is a great city to spend an evening in. I can think of lots to do. Besides, I don't take the phone with me, I hate the damn thing."

*

"Did Billy have a nickname?" Manny asked, back in Mark's office the next morning, standing, looking out the window.

"Yes, Ollie," Tainer answered.

"Ollie & Sven." Manny turned to Tainer, grinning, a cocky look on his face and laughed. "Billy was telling you guys those jokes?"

"Oh yeah, we laughed our asses off. Where did Ollie and Sven come from?"

"They're a common Minnesota joke repertoire, the Swedish Meatballs, Billy called them. You know," Manny hesitated, thinking. "Billy made up many of those jokes himself. It was like he had an inside to the characters"

"Tell me about Lena," Mark said, leaning forward. "Billy said he knew a real life one."

"Oh god, that would be Cassey!" Manny exclaimed. "How did he describe her?"

"Oh, let me think now, ah let's see. This Lena was this Nordic blond bomb shell that was Ollie's girl. The way he put it, we all fell in love immediately. She had um, I can't remember quite how it goes, wheels and motor something."

"She had hellacious wheels, all the way up to her motor?" Manny finished, laughing again.

"Yeah, that's it! I'd just think about Billy's graphic description of Lena and save lot of strain on my hand," Tainer hesitated. "Ah, aren't we talking about your wife?"

"Oh, don't worry, Cassey loved it. I don't know about you guys cutting down on the revs, but she loved being a part of Billy's making everybody laugh. It's strange how you can forget something important like that. It just slips out of your mind and then all at once it surfaces again."

"You having a flash back?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about Ollie and Sven, I was Sven. That's how close we all were. Billy, Cassey and I. God, it was great times. I'd forgotten how hilarious Billy could be. Boy, that was a long time ago." Manny made a clicking sound with his tongue, looking out the window again, a faraway look transfixing on his face. "Before he went away."

Manny turned back to Mark with a serious look. "I wish I would have done something to rekindle that friendship. Now it's too late."

"Better late, than never."

"But what does it do for the Billy's of the world, the ones that are gone and forgotten?"

"Maybe they get remembered, like they deserve."

"But I missed the chance to tell him to his face. How I appreciated him for being Billy. That's what should have happened, not the indifference we ended up having for each other."

"Well, apathy among friends is ridiculous, so to cleanse thy soul, why not tell it to me," Tainer said. "I'm sort of guilty too. I'd like to hear more about Billy, what he was like before he fell into that meat grinder."

Manny looked at Tainer, feeling a kinship. "Billy was funnier than hell and could get away with almost everything he did," Manny said, finally coming to sit down. "Teachers loved him. In eighth grade we would have film days. Billy taped a playboy center fold on the screen and rolled it back up. The teacher pulled the screen down and everyone started laughing. The teacher had his back to the screen so he couldn't figure it out. Finally this girl in the front row gets him to turn around. He looked at the picture for a bit and shook his head.

"I guess I'll be seeing Mr. Palmer after class," he said, taking the pinup down.

"I stopped after hockey practice, and Billy and this teacher are shooting the breeze, just like old friends."

Chapter 23

"Come on doggy, hop on in," Cassey said to George of the Jungle as she held the driver's seat forward for him to get in the back. Her SUV, was still inside the garage.

George took his customary position in the back seat on the floor. George loved to go with her, but she could never figure out why because he stayed on the floor and was never seen. She figured it was his favorite place to sleep.

It's Thursday, and every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon she drove five miles on the back roads to the high school in the next town for her aerobics class. Cassey was very diligent about her exercise. She hadn't missed a class in a long time.

As she backed out of the garage, she thought about how Manny would hate this day, cloudy and gray, the forecast calling for another six to ten inches of snow. I know Manny has never liked winter, and I shouldn't feel annoyed about him leaving again, considering how bad the weather is going to get. He seems happier this year, the traveling has been good for him. Cassey smiled at the thought. And the Billy project. I know he's been bored at work for years, ever since Andy died. Andy was such a pain in the butt. Manny had to take up the slack, but since then it has all gone smooth and Manny has built a great business. He doesn't have much to do there anymore, it all runs so well. Now he's got something to sink his teeth into.

Cassey had made it out of town, driving down the two lane road for the neighboring high school. It started to snow, but she liked the white soothing calm it brought her. Cassey was thinking about why she and Manny felt so differently about this season. It's the quietness that I love about winter, the stillness and the slowed down pace."

Lost in speculation, Cassey barely noticed a big, black truck behind her and gave it no thought. The road was bordered on both sides by high snow banks made by the snow plows, and a little farther back, big trees. There were very few houses out this way, the area was known for its wildness. Cassey was cruising along, enjoying the scenery. The new snow was heavy and wet, sticking to the branches of the trees. She looked into the rear view mirror, and the black truck was right on her tail, getting ready to pass her.

Some dork in a hurry, not appreciating the winter wonderland. She sighed, as the truck swung out to pass and charged forward. The truck went past, moving out in front of her SUV, when suddenly its brake lights came on, startling her. The black truck turned right in front of her, starting to slide sideways, blocking the road. Cassey jammed on her brakes."

"Goddamn idiot!" Cassey shouted, as the big truck continued to brake right in front of her. The black truck lost control, and the rear end slid out, brushing the tall snow bank on the far side of the road. Cassey also continued braking, staying behind the out of control truck. The big truck continued sideways down the road, loosing speed, but still blocking the road. The truck came to a stop and so did Cassey. The truck was ten feet in front of her SUV, and her first thought was, Thank god there was no accident."

The driver's side door of the truck, facing away from her, opened and a smallish man appeared, trotting around the front of the black truck. Cassey wasn't alarmed at first, but she suddenly realized the man had a ski mask covering his face, and was headed right for her. Cassey instinctively hit the power lock, securing the doors to the SUV, as the man ran up to her window. She was just about to put the SUV in reverse, when the attacker pulled a metal bar out of his coat with his left hand, and swung wildly at her side window, smashing it in, covering her in shattered glass.

She had the SUV in reverse, and rammed the throttle down. Cassey operated the four-wheel-drive vehicle in two wheel drive most of the time because she was told; it uses less gas that way. The SUV's rear wheels spun on the icy road, and the vehicle hardly moved, as her assailant reached in through the shattered window. The man grabbed for the inside door handle, grasping it with his left hand, pulling the handle up and opening the door. He backed off slightly, allowing the door to open enough so there was room for him to reach into the cab, to grab for Cassey. Cassey was scrambling away from him toward the passenger's side of the cab, kicking at him with her legs, screaming as loud as she could. The shrieking hurt his ears as he started to move toward the panicking Cassey, trying to grab one of her thrashing legs.

The first indication that something was amiss was the heavy, musky smell the assailant detected moments before he was hit.

The sudden, violent attack from the back seat was totally unexpected, as George of the Jungle rammed the man with one-hundred pounds of furry and savage teeth. Before the attacker realized what had happened, George grabbed his right upper arm in his huge mouth, and was driving him back out of Cassey's SUV. George's massive weight drove them both down toward the icy roadway.

The attacker got lucky, as George's momentum carried the huge dog over him, loosening the crushing grip on his arm, both of them spinning around, temporarily separated. The man ended up on his knees, with George stretched out on the slippery road, his legs splayed out, churning and slipping, trying to get back to his feet, to renew the assault. The dog, unable to get a solid footing, allowed the man just enough room and time to swing the metal rod, violently, producing a lucky shot, catching George at the back of the skull, knocking the dog back down with a sickening crunch. The man and George collapsed back on the slippery roadway.

The man tried to stand on the ice, dropping the metal bar, managing to get to his knees first, his jacket torn and his right arm hanging weakly. He grabbed his damaged arm above the elbow with the other hand and stood slowly, looking into the SUV, to Cassey. She had the glove box open and was fumbling around in it. The man had no idea what may be in there and he was hurt too bad to continue the assault.

Blood was dripping from his damaged arm, on to the roadway, as he headed back for the black truck, stumbling and sliding around the front, trying to reach the still open driver's door.

Cassey's was in shock, finally getting the cell phone she pulled out of the glove box turned on, her breath coming in short, thick gasps. She moved like she was in a dream, slowly, deliberately, as she watched the man painfully pull the door of his truck shut. She sat back up behind her steering wheel, gripping it with white knuckles, as the black truck backed up, stopped, started forward, turning to accelerate straight down the road, away from her.

As the assailant's truck disappeared into the falling snow, Cassey sat ridged, frosty, short contrails of breath shooting out of her mouth. She tried to slow her breathing, trying to piece together what had just happened. She was uncertain what to do next, now that the danger was gone. It wasn't until she looked out the open door of the SUV and saw her beloved George laying still on the cold road that she finally reacted, picking the phone off the seat and dialing quickly.

*

The first sheriff car arrived a few minutes later, and found Cassey sitting in the road, crying. Her tears were frozen to her cheeks, George's head cradled in her lap. The deputy recognized Mrs. Anderson immediately and when he asked her what happened, she responded with, "That son-of-a-bitch killed my dog."

The deputy was slightly confused, getting Cassey to respond any farther was difficult. She was holding on to the dog tightly, and the officer couldn't get her to let loose, or answer any of his questions. The deputy was kneeling down, his hand on her shoulder, trying to question the despondent Cassey.

"I'll never forgive that son-of-a-bitch for this," Cassey said, finally looking up to the deputy, a look of anger in her tear streaked eyes.

"Who's that Mam, who did this?" asked Deputy Auburn. He hadn't a clue yet about what happened.

"That fuckin Manny, I warned him! This is his fault!" Cassey shouted.

"Manny Anderson, that's your husband, right? He did this?" Auburn asked.

"He couldn't leave it alone, and this is what happened!"

Auburn stroked George's head, looking for clues and noticed some blood on the dog's mussel. He pulled the skin back to look at the teeth.

"Are you hurt Mam, there's blood—" he started to comment, but noticed the metal rod lying on the road and then the trail of blood leading away to tire tracks heading off down the road. He correctly surmised that Mrs. Anderson had been involved in a serious incident.

"Who killed your dog?" The deputy asked, starting the investigation.

"That fuckin Manny, it's his fault! I warned him!" Cassey shouted, as the deputy quickly headed back to his patrol car and called for more officers.

"He went to see a guy in Arizona!" Cassey shouted to the deputy as he sat half in, half out of his patrol car. "That's the guy that killed George!"

"Your husband knows the man that did this?" the deputy shouted back.

"He doesn't know him, he just went to see him!" Cassey explained.

Chapter 24

A little later Cassey was sitting in the police station, still a little shaky, grasping a hot cup of coffee with both hands. A detective in a heavy woolen shirt, jeans, and snow mobile boots was sitting backwards in a chair. His arms were crossed, elbows resting on the back of the chair, his chin resting on his wrists. The detective wasn't saying anything, waiting for Cassey to compose herself.

"Did you find the guy?" Cassey asked, looking to the detective.

"We're not exactly sure who to look for, yet? Got any ideas?" the deputy answered.

"I told the first sheriff, look for a guy from Arizona."

"He had Arizona plates on the big black truck?"

"I don't know, but the guy my husband went to see lives in Arizona."

"I see. We've been trying to contact your husband, but it seems that his whereabouts are unknown. He left no itinerary?" the detective asked.

"No, I don't know where he is, just in New York. He usually phones home every evening."

"Is this normal, going on a trip, and you don't know where to contact him? You know, just in case?" the detective added with a note of skepticism in his voice.

"No, this trip was a spur of the moment, and I guess, I forgot to ask, and he didn't tell. Manny and I base our relationship on trust. It is not uncommon for us to be out of contact a day or two, now and then. I let him have his space, and he lets me have mine."

"I see, but I talked to his secretary and she's in the dark too. Says Mr. Anderson had no business come up in New York as far as she knows. What's going on Mrs. Anderson? This attack doesn't seem random. It looks like someone knew your habits and had a plan."

"I told you, the guy from Arizona. Manny was trying to put the screws to him."

"This guy has no name, as far as you know?" the deputy commented with a note of sarcasm in his voice. "We can't start picking up people just because they happen to be from Arizona, now can we?"

"Don't patronize me," Cassey shot back. "My husband only mentioned his name once and I'm sorry, but I can't remember it."

"I'm sorry too Mam, but obviously there was a crime committed. You've got a dead dog, and there is blood at the scene."

The mention of George started Cassey crying again.

"So I'm not doubting your story, but I need information. I want to solve this as fast as I can. The longer we trifle, the farther away the perp gets, understand?"

"Poor George, he was such a nice doggy," Cassey sobbed. "I don't know what to tell you. Until I hear from my husband, I don't know how to help you," Cassey's volume went up. "I can't remember the name!" she shouted frustrated.

"That's okay Mrs. Anderson, calm down. We've put out a description of the truck, and if the man used a hotel or rented it, and if he was dumb enough to add an Arizona address, we might get lucky. You're sure about the gloves, he never took them off."

"No," Cassey sniffled. "I'm positive he had them on the whole time."

"Well, I've got the crime team going over your truck anyway. You never know. About this physical description you gave us, this is a little vague."

"He was wearing a lot of clothes, it's very cold out, you know."

"Yes, I know. Mrs. Anderson, are you sure there isn't anything you could tell us about the man, any little thing that we could use?"

"I already told you, he had a ski mask on so I couldn't possibly tell you anything about his face, but his ears stuck out, I think?"

"That's good, that's a start."

"I'm sorry, but after I saw the ski mask, I sort of got excited. I don't think I was paying too much attention to him. I was just thinking about getting away."

"I want you to try to recall anything about this man, about his features, his shape, his movements, anything." The detective pushed back from the chair and stood up.

"Oh, officer," Cassey cried, reaching for her purse, then rummaging around inside. "I just remembered, there's a publisher in New York my husband might call, at least he was supposed to." Cassey handed the officer the number of Mark Tainer.

The detective returned after about fifteen minutes. "Mrs. Anderson, does the name Edward Crane mean anything to you?"

"That's the guy," Cassey shouted, standing up quickly, "that's the guy from Arizona. You got him?"

"No, just the name."

"If you didn't catch him, how do you know his name?" Cassey asked suspiciously.

"The publisher, Mark Tainer, I just spoke to him and he did talk with your husband. Mr. Anderson informed this Mark Tainer about an Edward Crane, and some beef with the VA. I'm not sure what the total story is, but at least we have a name now. Mr. Tainer sends his best. I'm sending you home with a deputy and she will remain with you until we get a better picture of what's going down. Is that okay?"

"I, I ya, I guess so. You couldn't find my husband?"

"No, but I sure do want to talk to him. Mr. Tainer said Mr. Anderson told him he had to meet with a business associate from Arizona."

Cassey looked at the detective with a startled look on her face.

"As soon as you get home check your messages, and have Mr. Anderson call me if you speak to him. I mean right away Mrs. Anderson." The detective was very stern sounding.

*

Cassey was at home sitting on the couch, the fireplace roaring. She'd taken a shower, had a little to eat and was working on her second drink. A female deputy, Carrie Conner, was there with her. Cassey was feeling a little better, except when she thought about George, but she was confident the second drink will help there too.

When Cassey had gotten home there was a phone message from Manny. He would arrive Minneapolis 5:16 P.M. standard time and Cassey relayed it to the detective. Detective Swenson said he would be at the gate when Manny arrived.

*

At 5:46 P. M. Cassey's phone rang, and Conners answered it as agreed. "It's your husband." Carrie said, as she handed the phone to Cassey.

"Cassey!" Manny was breathing hard. "My god, are you all right?"

"Where are you?" she asked, a very unfriendly tone in her voice

"I'm still in the airport. I just got the word. There was a detective Swenson waiting for me. Cassey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, but George is dead."

"I know, the detective told me," Manny said sadly. "You're okay though, that's all that matters."

"Yeah, I'm okay, but that's not all that matters, Manny! You screwed up Manny! Anderson, you pulled a boner and you got George killed, and I'm pissed."

"Hey, we don't know what happened yet—" Manny was contrite, trying to defend himself because he knew Cassey and could hear the anger in her voice.

Cassey cut him off. "Screw you bub! I warned you! This irresponsible shit, running all over, your head stuck up your tail pipe, and now George is dead! I loved that dog, Manny, and he's dead, because you screwed up!" Cassey slammed the phone down.

*

Manny held the disconnected phone in his hand, looking at it.

Detective Swenson was watching him.

"Boy, she's pissed," Manny said, putting the receiver back. "I can tell when she starts using the word screwed. That means somebody's going to."

"Somebody tried to kill her. If it was me, I'd be a little upset to," Swenson said. "My advice is get on home, she'll calm down."

"I hope so, otherwise I'm in big trouble. Have you got a line on this Crane character yet?"

"Not yet, Sir, but I don't really know the story. I had someone drive me in so we can discuss this on the trip back to Red Pine." Swenson picked up Manny's overnight bag.

Chapter 25

Manny finally got home at 10:00 P.M. It was a grueling drive because the detective was relentless, going over and over what Manny had to tell him, taking notes constantly, asking the same questions.

The house was dark when the garage door slid up and Manny drove in. When he came through the door to the kitchen he saw a lamp on in the den area. He didn't see the light when he came up the driveway and was startled by a strange voice when he walked into the room.

"Welcome home Mr. Anderson, don't be alarmed. My name is Carrie Conner and I'm with the County Sheriff's Office. I'm here to look after your wife."

"Shit lady, no one told me you'd be here."

"I'm sorry, I'd have thought you would have been informed."

"Some policy you've got, I could have died from a heart attack or something."

"I'm sorry Sir, some sort of oversight."

"I guess! Where's my wife?"

"She's asleep, down in one of the boy's rooms. We thought it would be best."

"I'd like to see her, if that's all right?"

"Oh, of course, go right ahead. I'll be here if you need me."

"I'm sure you will," Manny snapped because he was on edge. First the news about Cassey and George, now the police taking over his life. He had never been involved in any kind of situation concerning the law, and it was unsettling how overwhelming the experience had become.

They definitely do take charge, crossed his mind as he went down the hall.

He found Cassey in Donny's room, the last bedroom down the hall. As he entered he could smell the slight odor of alcohol. Cassey seldom drank, and this was a bad omen. He sat on the bed wondering how to approach the situation

"Finally made it, huh?" Cassey was turned away from him so her voice was faint.

"Rough day, huh?" Manny said sheepishly because he didn't know what else to say.

"Not as rough as George's."

Manny could detect the anger in her voice.

"Geez, I'm going to miss that big lummox," Manny added.

"Should have thought about that before, Mr." Cassey rolled a little toward her back. "A little late now."

"Why are you acting like I made some terrific booboo, and now you're paying for it?" Manny started losing his cool.

"Because that is exactly how it went!" Cassey shouted, turning all the way to face him. "Jesus Christ Manny, what a dumb fuck thing to do. You go and threaten a guy that's a known killer, and when he responds, you go 'whoops'! Fucking duh, Manny!"

"For your information, the police aren't certain that Crane had anything to do with it. They found him, and guess what? No dog bites."

"What're they trying to pull?" Cassey moved up onto her elbows. "George got him good, I saw the blood."

"They got Crane in Phoenix and checked him out, and no dog bites. You tell me?"

"I, I'm too tired to work this out, so go up to bed, and we'll do it in the morning." Cassey plopped back down and rolled away from Manny.

"You coming up?" Manny asked.

"Not with you," Cassey snorted.

"Ah huh," Manny said, heading out of the room. I'm in deep dudu on the home front.

"Manny, you find someone else I can blame for this, and you're off the hook, but not until." Cassey said loudly, as he left the room.

Chapter 26

Manny came into the kitchen the next morning, the smell of fresh coffee drawing him there. It was just starting to get light outside, Still too dark to judge what kind of day it will be weather wise, but a dreary day is the least of my worries.

Cassey was sitting at the breakfast bar, talking on the phone. Manny walked up, putting both hands on her shoulders, and she stopped talking, He tried to message her the way she liked it. Normally, Cassey would relax, letting her shoulders drop to enjoy the sensation. This morning however, she stiffened, hinting that the attempt at reconciliation is not wanted.

Manny removed his hands and sighed. "Who you talking to?"

"Mom and Dad?"

"Oh, tell them hi." Manny moved off, headed toward the coffee.

"Cassey didn't resume the conversation until he was around the bar, out of hearing range. As he poured his cup full he can hear Cassey talking again in a hushed, guarded volume.

He walked over to the window and looked out. It had gotten a little bit lighter, so he could see. It was not a real dismal day, partly cloudy, but it looked cold out there. He looked around the yard, subconsciously waiting for George to appear, and then it hit him. For the first time since this hammer has come down on his life he feels the real loss. George is gone, and Cassey blames him. Manny turned and looked to Cassey as she put the phone down and looked at him.

"I talked to Detective Swenson just before my parents," she said calmly.

"Has he figured out what the hell is going on?" Manny asked hopefully.

"No, he called to say he was on his way to Phoenix."

"Good, he'll get to the bottom of this," Manny tried to sound confident.

"Manny, I'm going to my parents."

"When?" Manny asked surprised.

"I've got to get packed, Marilyn's coming to get me. She'll drive me to the bus station," Cassey said getting up.

"But?" Manny said, walking toward Cassey.

"Detective Swenson thinks it's a good idea," Cassey said, dogging him, backing out of the room.

"Swenson?" Manny was confused and angry.

"Yes, he would like me to go somewhere until he can get some answers. He says that it was supposed to look random, but he feels it was planned. I was the target. He's not sure, but he feels that you might have something to do with this," Cassey said sadly.

"He can't do that!" Manny yelled. "He can't accuse me with no justification. What the hell does that guy think he's doing?"

"Manny, I don't care, I'm leaving for a while. I'm so frightened, or angry, or both, I don't know what to do?" Cassey was talking fast, and Manny could sense that she didn't want to give him an opening to defend himself. "The boys and I will be spending Christmas with my Parents. I don't want you talking to Donny or Danny, understand. They'll just be confused, just like I am."

"You're shutting me off from my family?" Manny pleaded. "What about my side of the issue?"

"Your side screwed up!" Cassey declared.

"Stop saying that!" Manny shouted.

"I doesn't make any difference, you are at fault. Either you or Crane did this."

"What if it was just a random thing?"

"Swenson says, 'Not the case.' They found the black truck in the Minneapolis airport. It was a rental, stolen credit card. There's blood in the cab, it's not a match with the blood they have, yet, but Detective Swenson is sure it will be."

"Detective Swenson is very sure of himself. Does anyone realize this is my life that's being turned upside down?"

"Were you attacked Manny?" Cassey shouted.

"No."

"Well, I was, and to tell you the truth, I'm glad I have someone looking out for my well-being because you, my husband, are doing little to comfort me right now."

"You're pushing me away, you don't trust me. What can I do with that?"

Cassey looked at him, and he could see no sympathy in her stare. Her glare was broken when she looked past him to the window. Manny turned, as Marilyn Gwynn's car was coming up the drive.

"Nasty bitch must be loving this," Manny said under his breath. Manny and Marilyn don't like each other, never did.

"I suppose the town crier has spread the word?" Manny said angrily, nodding toward the driveway.

"Only worried about your image, huh Manny?"

"Hey, I'm an innocent man. I don't have anything else to worry about."

"We'll see," Cassey said, hurrying past Manny.

*

Cassey wasted no time, she and Marilyn had packed her things in the car and were ready to go in fifteen minutes.

Manny noted this was some sort of record. First time she's not going to not be late for something, and I don't get to enjoy it, figures.

Cassey was serious about leaving and leaving quick, so Manny didn't even try to talk. Marilyn gave him knowing little smiles whenever she walked by him. Manny didn't know why Cassey had remained friends with her for all these years. Marilyn has had four husbands and all four agree that it was the worst experience of their lives. Marilyn is also the town gossip and resident trouble maker. Marilyn spends her days deflecting all the turbulence she causes, by making everyone else's lives miserable.

The ultimate drama queen, Manny silently surmised, watching Marilyn rejoice in his ruined life.

"I trust you can handle everything here, without screwing anything else up? I'll call when I get there," Cassey said as she walked out the door, rushing to the car. She didn't even look his way, as Marilyn backs down the drive, the smirk still on her face. A sheriff's car pulled in behind as an escort.

Manny stood in the door for a couple of minutes, thinking, uncertain on how to proceed. Finally getting cold, he turned around to go inside. Deputy Conner was still there, standing in the living room looking at him.

"Ah, can I help you?" Manny didn't know what else to say because he's growing tired of the police.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind?" Conner answered. "And maybe look around."

"You the second squad?"

"You might say that. That doesn't offend you, I hope, I mean, talking to a woman."

"Oh hell no, you're probably the only woman that's going to talk to me anyway."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but these things do have a way of disrupting people's lives."

Christ, these people come from a mold. Manny recognized the condescending sneakiness, first noticing it in Swenson's methods.

"What can I help you with, coffee maybe, for a starter?" Manny asked.

"No, I've had my fill, thank you. Too much and I'll have sparks flying between my fingertips," the deputy said.

"Ha, ha, that's a good one, haven't heard it before," Manny returned, laughing. "What can I help you with, then?"

"I would like to look around house, as part of the investigation. If you don't mind?"

"Don't you need a search warrant?"

"Of course, if you don't want me to? But, if you just give me your permission, then it's okay. I'm kind of getting my feet wet in investigations, so the Sheriff felt this might be a good place to learn," Carrie said, not indicating that to refuse would add any suspicion to her mind. "I'm just trying to see if anything can lead us to who attacked your wife. You never know what might be here"

The buggers, they want something to tie me to it. Well, let them look. Manny was angry, but the intrusions don't look like they will dissipate for the near future.

Deputy Carrie headed toward the rear of the house, Manny following. He watched her, wondering what she's looking for, interested to see how she goes about it.

"Is there something I can help you with Mr. Anderson?"

Manny can tell the deputy is uncomfortable with him watching.

"No, I can help 'you' deputy! You see this is 'my' house! I was going to help you find your way around. Any problems with that? Do you have any idea what may have started all this?"

"No, Sir, I don't have the slightest idea."

"Then, what the hell are you supposed to be looking for?"

"I guess, I won't know, until I find it."

"I don't believe you fuckin people," Manny shouted. "A crime's committed, and you throw out a net so big you don't know what you're dragging in. I think a sense of responsibility might be called for, don't you?"

"I was only instructed to—"

"By who deputy?" Manny interrupted. "Who's your leader?"

Deputy Carrie just looked at him, either unwilling, or unable to understand what he's asking. "Who's in charge of the pod?" Manny finally resorted to cynicism.

"I'm sorry, Sir, my orders are to observe."

"Who gave you the supposed technique?" Manny waited and got nothing. "Who told you how to observe?"

"Detective Swenson is an expert on evidence gathering," Conner stated.

"Ah huh, and what makes Detective Swenson an expert?"

"He attended the FBI's crime lab."

"Bingo! Tell me Deputy, how many 'big' cases have there been around here, since Junior graduated from spy school?"

Deputy Conners said nothing, finally accepting the ribbing from Manny. He can tell, she doesn't know how to continue.

"Look, Carrie, you want some insight on how this started, just ask me? Don't presume that you are going to roam around my home, looking for something to dump on me with, because, I didn't have anything to do with my wife's attack. Pass that on to Swenson when you talk to him, tell him I'll take a lie detector test, just for him."

"I'm sorry Mr. Anderson, I'm just trying to do my job," Carrie replied emotionally.

Geez I hope she doesn't start crying. . .unless it's all a trick to whittle me down"?

"Deputy, has anyone mentioned the name Billy Palmer to you?" Manny asked.

Conner, reached into her breast pocket and whipped out a note book, already back from the crisis. "The name was mentioned by your wife, I believe," Carrie said, flipping pages.

Jesus, she's got a book in there already. Manny thought, watching Conner check her notes.

"Yes, here it is." Conner smiled proudly. "He was a Vietnam Vet, an old friend you were researching? Is that right?"

"Researching. . .yeah Deputy, I guess that would be right. He was an old friend and I was looking into his life. That's how I came across Eddy Crane, does that name ring a bell?"

"Yes, Detective Swenson has gone to Phoenix to interrogate him."

"Good, you're on the ball. Now Billy Palmer's life had a connection to this Mr. Crane, and I found out about it, and may have stirred something up. That is probably why you and I are talking here now."

"I see," Conner said, writing furiously in her note book. "Is there anything else I should know about this Mr. Palmer?"

"My wife was compiling some things in her computer, it's in the office down the hall. Do you know anything about them?"

"Yes, Sir, that's my specialty, data recovery." Deputy Carrie was excited because they had moved into her area.

"Fine, you have my permission to have a go at the monster machine," Manny said gesturing toward the office, as the phone rang. He followed Conner to the office, the closest phone being in there. Conners sat down at the desk, as Manny picked up the phone.

"Hello, my life is in the crapper, so dump away," Manny said into the phone.

"Jiminy Manny, what the heck is going on?" Carl Andrews answered. "I just talked to Fred Maynard and he said you tried to kill Cassey? What the heck is he talking about?"

"Great!" Manny exclaimed, then hesitated, realizing how far this thing had really gotten already." Look Carl, somebody attacked Cassey, or tried to, George got in the way—"

"Yeah, Fred said you killed the dog too," Carl cut him off.

"You tell Fred to 'can it,' or he's next." Manny immediately regretted the comment because Conner looked up at him, but at least she didn't go for the note book or her gun.

"I'm kidding Carl. It's just one of those stories that's gotten blown out of proportion. Marilyn Gwynn is involved, sucking up to Cassey."

"Oh, Christ," Carl rarely used anything even close to profanity, "not her!" Marilyn had been Carl's first sexual encounter way back in high school, and Manny was sure it must have been traumatic for the inexperienced Andrews. Marilyn the Mauler had been her moniker back then.

"None of what I'm hearing is true, is it?" Andrews asked softly.

"Of course not! Jesus Carl, I can't believe anyone would think I could hurt Cassey, but it's a mess."

"I know, I was just flabbergasted. How you doing?"

"Oh, all right, I guess, but I've got cops up my butt. Man, they sure steam roll the situation."

"That's their job Manny, so be careful. Don't talk to them without representation."

"Oh, I've got nothing to hide. There's one here now, going through Cassey's computer."

"What, in your house?" Andrews's voice went up many notches.

"Yeah, what's the big deal?"

"Put them on the phone immediately." Manny had never heard Andrews sound so authoritative.

"Oh settle down Carl, like I said I've got nothing to hide."

"Manny, golldarnit, listen to me, please. Whoever is there, put them on the phone, now, do it!" Manny had also never heard Carl Andrews with such gusto, so he handed the phone to Deputy Conner. "It's for you."

"This is Carl Andrews, Mr. Anderson's attorney, would you please identify yourself?"

"My name is Carrie Conner, Mr. Andrews."

"And you are an officer of the court?"

'Yes, Deputy Carrie Conners, County Sheriff's Office."

"Deputy Conner, quit what you're doing, and stand back, until I get there. I am Manny Anderson's legal council. Do you understand?"

"Mr. Anderson gave his permission, and I—"

"Stop what you are doing, now, and give the phone back to Mr. Anderson, now deputy."

Carrie reluctantly handed the phone to Manny.

"Manny listen to me good. Do not say another thing until I get there, and get her away from that computer."

"Carl, you're over reacting—"

"Manny, shut up and listen to me," Carl interrupted. "Don't take any chances with those people. Don't say another thing until I get there. It'll be about fifteen minutes. You got me?"

"If you think it's important Carl."

"You never know, but just to be safe." Carl hung up.

"Well, you heard my attorney, the party's over," Manny said, gesturing with his thumb for her to get up from the computer.

*

"Well, are you going to invite me in?" Carl Andrews asked standing at Manny's front door.

"Oh sorry Carl, I'm just numb. Things are spiraling out of control."

"That's why I'm here Manny."

"It's like I told you, I have nothing to hide, why should I need a lawyer?"

"To keep it that way. I contacted that Detective Swenson on my way here, he's really tight lipped. I think they are looking for a connection to you and some guy in Arizona. Want to tell me the story?"

Manny explained the situation as detailed as he could. When he finished Carl thought for a moment.

"I think you should do the following, Manny. I know a sharp young lawyer in Minneapolis, just got out of the prosecutor's office."

"Hold on Carl. I thought you were interested in saving my bacon, now you're telling me about someone else."

"Manny, I'm not a criminal lawyer, but I know enough to know when you need some good protection. Believe me, the Sheriff's Department is going to be up your butt with a microscope, and you need someone to make sure that whatever they find is justified. You have no idea how out of control these investigations can get, especially if someone is out to make a name. You need someone to make sure that they cross their tees and dot their I's. Swenson wants a meeting with you tomorrow afternoon, after five."

"I'm sick of that guy," Manny proclaimed.

"Look Manny, he's in charge right now and he's fired up, so play his game, at least until we know what he thinks."

"I guess."

"Good, I suggested we meet here at your house. You'll be more comfortable, and it makes it look like you have nothing to hide, at least here."

"Thanks Carl, I have nothing to hide period."

"You know what I mean. Is there anything in that computer?"

"The one here?"

"Yes, the one you've been working on?"

"I don't know, I don't know much about—"

"No, no, I mean is there anything you've put in there, any work you've done that you don't want anybody to see?"

"No."

"Good, Swenson wants the machine, and if it's clean, I'd give it to them."

"Hey, they can have it. I don't know how to do anything with it, and they'll see that I was only working Billy's life, like I said."

"Good, that's good, it will show Swenson that you've been square with him."

Chapter 27

The next afternoon, late, it was getting dark outside, and Manny, Carl, Detective Swenson, Officers Auburn and Conners were all gathered in Manny's kitchen, discussing the case.

"We contacted Yuma, PD and they went to Eddy Crane's home, but he wasn't there, can you imagine?" Swenson was chuckling. "They got lucky because a neighbor told them Eddy went to Minnesota. The neighbor said Eddy had called all disappointed and was coming home later that day. We checked the flights and got lucky again. Eddy was apprehended in the Phoenix airport at his connection to Yuma.

"That's great, good work Swenson," Carl Andrews cheered.

"Yeah, Cassey will be very happy," Manny added. "I can't tell you h—"

"I've got a problem, Manny," Swenson interrupted.

"What can be wrong, you got Crane?" Andrews asked.

"Yeah, we've got Crane," Swenson said, "and Crane was in a motel in Alexandria, but—"

"But what? What the hell else do you need? My god, the man came all the way from Yuma Arizona, to do what?" Andrews was getting flustered, and using profanity.

"I don't know, but he has a story, and Mr. Anderson," Swenson looked to Manny, "he has no dog bites, like I told you last night."

"What the hell has that got to do with anything?" Manny shouted.

"Mr. Anderson, Manny, whoever was out there on that road with your wife left a blood trail from your SUV to his vehicle. The blood on George's teeth, and that blood trail, match types. We'll get a better analysis later, but for now the main thing is, we know that your dog did some serious damage to whoever attacked your wife. I went to Phoenix and I saw that Edward Crane has no wounds matching a dog bite. What are we supposed to make of that?"

"I don't know, how could he possibly be hiding that?" Manny asked.

"He can't Manny, he was examined by doctors, and I saw him in person, and I repeat, there are no dog bite wounds anywhere on that man's body, period. We have a problem."

"Then what the hell was he doing in Alexandria, fifty minutes from here? Have you considered an accomplice?"

"Yes, we're working on that, but Eddy is not to sharp. He could be easily led," Swenson used an accusatory tone, looking straight at Manny. "Eddy says he first got a call from an investigator. This investigator said that his VA benefits might be jeopardized. A Senator from Minnesota was involved, pushing for an inquiry. Then he said he got another call, a different man. This man said that he was the same man that spoke to him in person, days before, offered him money for his story. Know anything about this Manny?"

"That would be me," Manny confessed

"Which one would you be, Manny? We've got a few characters in this plot."

"I'm the one that called the Senator."

"Who called Eddy Crane?"

"Not me," Manny said defensively.

"You're not leveling with me, Mr. Anderson," Swenson said cynically.

"Yes I am! I called Mr. Crane on his military record. He's a liar, and I was going to do something about it."

"You did call him then?"

"No, no, a figure of speech. I saw Mr. Crane a week ago, in person, in front of his home in Yuma. Have you checked him out, he's a double murderer? I told you that in the car."

"We know all about Mr. Crane, don't trouble yourself about that, but the problem is, Mr. Crane doesn't appear to be involved in this."

"What about accomplishes, somebody with him?"

"We're working that now, but it doesn't look good. Eddy says he got a call from that other man, asking him to come to Minnesota, to come and discuss a resolution to his problem. Eddy Crane remembers you, Manny, coming to his house, but he can't say if the voice on the phone either time was you. And trust me Manny, we're looking for any connections to Eddy's itinerary. So far, there's no other person, flight, rental car, hotel, etc., in Alexandria that doesn't fit. Same for a radius out fifty miles. You know, for the accomplice you're hoping for, but Manny, so far nothing. Eddy's still screaming that he's been framed. You know, he did nothing to hide the Minnesota trip. Makes it look like he's telling the truth."

"And phone records from Eddy's house show he got one call from Minnesota and two from New York, prior to going to Alexandria," Swenson continued. "Pay phones in the New York airport, the same day as your flight to New York, Manny."

"It wasn't me, I never called Crane," Manny declared."

"Then who did?" Swenson questioned.

"How should I know!" Manny answered, incredulously, annoyed.

"Click," the detective made the sound in his cheek. "You know, I'm pretty new at all this." Swenson looked Manny directly in the eyes, boring in as he continued. "Only been here, doing this about three years now, but you know what Manny?"

"What?" Manny responded, holding the detectives stare.

"I've got this tremendous training, and all this high tech stuff to fool with—" Swenson hesitated, still looking Manny down.

"Get to the point detective," Manny interrupted.

"Very well, Manny." Swenson looked away. "I will find out what happened, yes I will. Anything you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, find out who the hell attacked my wife!"

"Did you have anything to do with it?" The detective asked the question slow and deliberate, looking out the window. "Mr. Anderson?"

"I definitely did not!" Manny said equally as planned. "And I do not appreciate you alienating my family from me, Detective."

"I know my job is supposed to be only solving crimes," Swenson turned back to Manny, "but sometimes I dabble in crime prevention too, call it a hobby if you want."

This guy thinks he's a TV cop, playing the role of a lifetime. Hopes I might possibly be involved, and is going for the throat, just like prime time." Manny thought, then fired off. "Hey Swenson, tell me, who do you want to play you in the movie? Any Nordic hunks moving on up, or do you figure this will be the launching role for some new face?"

"I take my job serious, Mr. Anderson."

"Not serious enough Detective. If you did a little local investigating you would find that Cassey and I are happy together. She's the soul mate in my life. Do you have one of those Detective?"

"People can change Mr. Anderson. You have been doing a lot of unwarranted traveling lately. No telling what has caught your interest lately."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you understand what a soul mate is."

"It's not relevant to my investigation."

"You're doing a wonderful job Detective Swenson, you're right on top of our transition into the age of robotics, with gratuitous distinction."

The detective finally had no answer, looking at Manny formulating.

Jesus, finally confused the bugger. I wonder what they feed these bastards. Man, I was wondering if his dogma was iron clad, or what, scary shit." Manny decided to keep the advantage, saying nothing.

"I'm just doing my job." Swenson finally said, leaving the advantage in Manny's court.

"Good Detective! I'm only defending myself, so you don't end up wasting your time, coppice? Can you appreciate that?"

"I will explore all the possibilities, Sir."

Friggin didn't work for more than a second. Got to give this guy credit, if I was guilty the only thing to do now would be to confess and beg for mercy. "Detective, I have no doubt that you will get your man," Manny said honestly.

"I think I already have. Deputy Conners," Swenson turned to her, "would you inform Mr. Anderson of your discovery."

"Yes, I went through your computer Mr. Anderson, and I can't find any files pertaining to this Billy Palmer," Deputy Conner said.

"Well, Deputy, there is nothing in there about Billy, just his writing."

"There is nothing about Billy Palmer or anything he wrote in that computer, Mr. Anderson."

"Deputy, listen to what I say. He wrote a story called Timtown. It's the story that is in the computer, not anything about Billy, per say."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but that information is also missing."

"That can't be, how would it be missing?"

"That is what I would like to ask you, Manny?" piped up Swenson.

"Swenson, I know nothing about 'them' machines." Manny said, pointing at the computer. "The only thing I could be guilty of would be losing information, not getting rid of it."

"I only know what the deputy has told me, and she guarantees me that the files were removed."

"Geez, what next?" Manny said flustered, throwing up his arms. "Have you talked to my wife?"

"She says the files were there, and she didn't erase them," Deputy Conner said.

"People," Manny pleaded, "I can turn that thing on, I can open the files, sometimes, and that's it, believe me. I only use two fingers to type!"

"You're a smart man, Manny, but you're not much good at playing dumb," Swenson added.

"Who's playing." Manny said, turning and leaving the room. "You can all show yourselves out."

Chapter 28

The house was empty, and Manny was nursing a drink, trying to calm down after the episode with Detective Swenson. The phone rang, Manny grabbed it quickly, hoping to talk to Cassey.

"I hoped you'd come to your senses?" Manny said breathlessly.

"Geez Manny, I'm sorry, this is Tom."

"Tom, Tom, oh Tom, sorry, I've had a hell of a bad day, sorry." Manny recognized Gwen's husband.

"So I've heard. Gwen's Mother called, said there was something in the paper about you and some attempted murder."

"Yeah."

"I don't understand? I was going to call some old friends up there, but decided to call you first, find out what's happening."

"I appreciate that . . ." Manny hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain the situation. "It's a mess, and it's my fault."

"What's going on?"

"Oh, did you know, Billy was married once?"

"No, I didn't. When was this?"

"Twenty years ago. She was murdered?"

"Not there in Minnesota?"

"No, but the man that did it, well I found him, and did a very stupid thing, and it's come back to haunt me."

"I guess. I heard that you and Cassey split up."

"Yeah, for the moment Cassey is not my biggest fan.

"Gwen's called up there. According to what she's hearing, you turned out to be a real asshole."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Manny, what the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, but I'm looking really guilty right now. I can't figure out if it's circumstantial or if I was maybe set up."

"Why would somebody set you up? What do you have that they'd want?"

"Nothing I can figure, but I did step on somebody's life. I went and threatened the well-being of a psychopath."

"Well done, Manny!"

"Yeah, I never figured I had much talent, but I have amazed myself with this mess I've managed to get into."

"You know, Gwen was contacted this morning by some agent woman, offered her and her mom fifty-thousand big ones each for some kind of release."

"A release, what's that have to do with me?"

"They're Billy's only heirs, and somebody wants to write his life story.

"No shit, who was this person? Tainer, it's got to be Tainer, he's the only one that knows about the book.

"I don't know, Gwen won't tell me, something to do with a confidentiality clause."

"I assume she's going to do it?"

"Wouldn't you, I mean that's a lot of money."

"This party, they paid for the rights to what?"

"I don't know, Gwen won't talk, like I said. You could call her mother, she might spill the beans, but you didn't hear anything from me, okay?"

"I got ya, but why did you call me?"

"I don't know, you were interested in the same thing, I thought you should know."

"Look, I appreciate it, I really do, and I won't say I got it from you."

"Hey thanks. We could really use the money, but I feel kind of guilty. I mean, here's this wind fall, and it comes from Billy. Gwen's mother is always barking about how worthless Billy was and now she benefits from it. I don't understand that woman at all. She talks so bad about Billy, and he never did anything to her. Billy was cool about it all, he said it was just family dynamics, politics in the home. He said his dad treated people different according to what he wanted from them or thought he could get. Billy said he figured out the old man was messing with him at an early age. From then on Billy had the upper hand, and that was what his dad held against him. It had nothing to do with who he was or what he had done. I guess Billy understood what was going on, I sure don't."

*

Manny was holding the phone in his one hand, a second drink in the other, a knot forming in his stomach. The fireplace was burning hotly, but Manny was not getting any enjoyment from it. He took a big breath and dialed.

The phone rang. Oh, come on, somebody be there." The phone picked up on the fifth ring. Oh thank god, Donny, maybe he'll talk to me?

"Hey trooper, how's it going?"

"Hey Dad, what the hell is going on? Mom's all weirded out. I'm trying to feel her out, find out what's eating at her, but I don't know if she's really mad at you or just mad about George, and she's scared. I talked to this detective."

"Dear Mr. Swenson."

"Yeah, he's an asshole. Sounds like he's really got it in for you. What the hell is his problem?"

"He's convinced I'm a bad person."

"Sounds like it. He's got investigator on the brain and can't see the forest for the trees. Don't worry though, he'll sort it all out."

"You think?"

"Well, if anything, he'll probably burn himself out trying to stick it to you. His type always does."

"Thanks for the support, but I'm burning down along with him."

"Hang in there Dad, Danny and I know you didn't have anything to do with it."

"What does your mother think?"

"She's just really confused right now. She keeps saying she worked hard for her happiness and deserves to enjoy it. She admits she's being selfish. She wants revenge for George though. I've never seen her so ticked off before."

"She really liked that big hound."

"Yeah, George was her buddy and he died saving her. He's become almost mythical to Mom. But, like I said, I know you had nothing to do with it. Maybe somebody's out to get you and Mom?"

"What for?" Manny didn't reveal his suspicions because they were too vague yet.

"There are some seriously screwed up people in this world Dad, they don't need much of a reason. You and Mom have been so close, maybe someone's jealous.

"I just can't imagine why," Manny said, thinking, Try greedy.

"Jealousy can be ugly," Donny sighed. "Just be careful. I'll look after Mom, I've got another week's leave coming and I'll take it."

"Hey, thanks, Donny." Manny took a deep breath. "Is she there?"

"Yes."

"Put her on the phone please," Manny asked weakly.

Manny could hear a discussion going on in the background as he waited for Cassey, his stomach really tied into a knot. The thought of her not talking to him made him ache and waiting was torture. Shit, I haven't felt like this since high school. Since I first got serious about her. God damn, I haven't done anything wrong, why do I feel so helpless? I find out who's responsible and so help me—

"Okay Manny, it's your dime, what do you want?" Cassey sounded distant. He recognized the tone she used with people that annoyed her. The sound of her voice did nothing to quell the butterflies in his stomach.

"Hey sweetheart, I miss you," he feebly announced.

"Yeah Manny, how's it going?" Cassey didn't sound thrilled.

"Rough."

"Brought it on yourself."

"I know, I'd just like to know the particulars. How can I fix it if I'm not sure how it got broken?"

"Well, I'll leave that up to you. I miss my home, my peace and sanctity, and I blame you."

"I'll get it back for you, I promise."

"You've got no choice, Manny because I won't start out from the bottom again. I worked too hard and I won't except losing all that."

"You are really hard core." Manny immediately regretted the comment.

"Manny," Cassey shouted, "someone tried to kill me, and if it hadn't been for George I wouldn't be here now!"

"I'll get you another dog."

"George picked me, remember," Cassey said sadly. "How are you going to duplicate that?"

Manny didn't have an answer. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, wanting to change the subject.

"All the files you were working on are missing."

"Yes, I know, Detective Swenson called me and told me. He suspects you did it.

"I don't know how to do that," Manny said defensively

"That's what I told him. The detective said you hired somebody."

"Goddamn him!" Manny shouted. "He ties me to everything that he can't explain! It's not fair!"

"I don't really care!" Cassey shouted back. "I don't want anything more to do with Billy, or his writing, or his story. My life has been turned upside down because of it. No more Manny, do you hear me, no more of it! I wash my hands of the whole thing."

"Cassey, please! Timtown, do you have a copy, one you printed out, maybe?"

"Yes, what do you want that for?"

"Everything that's happened pertains to that book, trust me! Has anyone asked you if you printed one, or if you have any, what do you call them?

"Disks," Cassey answered.

"Yes, disks. Do you have any?"

"I'm sick of Billy, I don't want anything more to do with it, please I already told you that. You know, that Mark guy got really mad at me when I told him I might approach somebody else about the book. I thought it was kind of irrational and it kind of scared me. I don't like people I don't know trying to intimidate me. I didn't appreciate the pressure."

"I didn't know you called him?

"I didn't, he called looking for you."

"When?"

"You had just left, and he wanted to be sure you were coming to New York. I mentioned Mattie and how she had gotten published, and he went off on me. I got an ear full. Then when I got mad, he suddenly became real contrite, almost pleaded with me not to tell you about the incident, so I didn't. He said he though highly of you."

"He's thinking of me all right, but it's not respect that's motivating him. Please Cassey, the book, a copy, disks, it's important. I'll explain later."

"There's a copy printed out in the kitchen, in the bottom drawer to the left of the sink, and a disk there too."

"Oh, thank you!"

"That thing has gotten to be a pain in the ass, Manny," Cassey warned.

"Cassey, Timtown is the reason all this is happening."

"Huh?" Cassey responded.

"Trust me Babe, it's the ultimate prize"

Chapter 29

"The material was removed from outside her computer. Someone used a worm," Deputy Conner announced. She was in the office with Swenson and Auburn.

"So, Anderson did it that way, to throw us off," Swenson announced.

"I'm sure he doesn't have that kind of knowledge," Carrie said. "This was very high tech, very sophisticated"

"He hired someone. Think Deputy, think Anderson, stay focused and find out how he did it," Swenson instructed.

"I still don't think he's responsible," Carrie returned.

"I do the suspect evaluation around here," There was a warning in the tone of Swenson's voice. "When I tell you to find evidence to convict a suspect, you find evidence, do you understand?"

"Even if I think the suspect isn't hiding anything?"

"Yes, Deputy, I decide when a suspect is no longer under suspicion, not you. How was this worm installed, find that out, and you find the person that did it?"

"I don't think so," Conner returned with a contemptuous tone of her own. "Whoever did it, probably used a prepaid cell phone to tap into the wireless internet system at their end. They then placed the worm. It's about as untraceable as you can work it. Any disk that has anything pertaining to Timtown, that's the trigger word, is automatically erased. Somebody knows what they are doing."

"Okay, so Anderson is working with some smart people. Then find the woman. All that traveling, he's up to something, and I'll almost guarantee that it has to do with a woman, somewhere."

"Why are you so certain?" asked Auburn.

"Because, he tried to have his wife killed, fool!" Swenson criticized. "It's not financially motivated, I don't think? He has plenty of money, so why else? A man can't turn down adventure after his life has gone stale, boring, he has to seek out new adventures. Anderson even admitted that much to me, I have it in my notes."

"It could be a man? We don't know his sexual preference?" Auburn added.

"Good thinking Auburn!" Swenson said, excitedly. "I hadn't considered that angle, but it would explain why Anderson would suddenly become involved in dangerous activities. His peaceful life would sure take a hit if that got out, especially around here."

"Why did he remove all the computer material?" Auburn asked.

"That one has me baffled, but it will make sense when we find the reason. Maybe just to piss off his wife? I want his movements down to the hour, compiled, and on this desk by tomorrow evening. By then I want to be able to look at Manny Anderson's every movement for the last couple of months. Talk to that Marilyn Gwynn, she seems to know a lot," Swenson directed the order to deputy Conner.

"I don't like her," Conners said.

"Deputy Conners, this is not a personality contest," Swenson scolded. "You keep your personal feelings to yourself and concentrate on your job. Right now, that job is to find evidence to convict a criminal. Stick to that Deputy, and you and I will get along fine. Do you understand me?"

Conners didn't say anything right away as she and Swenson glared at each other, Conners finally capitulating. "Yes, Detective, I understand. I will do my best to obtain evidence to convict the guilty party."

"That's better Deputy Conner, much better."

*

Deputies Conner and Auburn were standing outside the office, watching Swenson go through the door to the street.

"What were you thinking in there?" Auburn asked.

"I just think he's wrong, and we're spinning our wheels. I can't see the husband being the perp in this one."

"I'd bet against you."

"Why?"

"Like Swenson said, the old man has been on the road all of a sudden, a lot. He's up to something!"

"I don't know, I've been talking to people that know the two of them, and unless he has fallen and hit his head recently, it doesn't fit."

"I'm still going with Swenson," Auburn said with a smirk. 'I'm going to do a little digging, look for the fag in his life."

"That is so disgusting! I hope you know what you're doing? It's really easy to screw somebody's life up, you know."

"Fuck Anderson, rich people think they can just do anything they want, and the rest of us can't do anything about it. I'll show the rich dude what happens when you don't tell the truth."

"You are such a pig," Conner said sadly.

"Hey honey, at least I'm still a man. Our suspect is the one that's got the identity problem."

"I don't know, I don't like this one bit. You're trying to tie him to the homosexual community, and I'm supposed to get dirt on him from the town skank. That woman makes it up as she goes," Conner sounded totally repulsed.

"You'll feel better when we nail his ass."

"No I won't, I'll be sad if he's guilty."

"Why you're feeling anything for this prick, I can't imagine? He comes and goes like it doesn't matter that the rest of us have to work for a living."

"He has a good life and a good family, why does it make you happy to see something like that destroyed?"

"Hey, he's the one that tried to get rid of his wife, some good family."

"I don't think he did," Deputy Conner said, looking off in the distance.

"Hey stick to your assignment, Swenson wouldn't like it if he found out you're not focusing," Auburn advised.

"To protect and serve," Conner said quietly.

Deputy Auburn, didn't hear, didn't understand, or didn't care.

Chapter 30

Carl Andrews and a very well dressed, early thirtyish looking man, were headed toward Manny, walking up the steps of the county court house. The county had constructed the public building at the turn of the century and the grand, old, stone structure was still serving its function well. It intimidated the hell out of Manny on this particular day.

"Manny, this is the young man I told you about, Jason McDermott," Carl said. Jason McDermott was the same height as Manny with light brown hair, a handsome face, and Manny noticed as he shook his hand, manicured nails. He did look all business. "He's familiar with the other side's tactics, as I explained to you."

Christ this guy looks expensive, was Manny's first inclination. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with this Carl?" Manny spoke. "I think it makes me look like I have something to hide."

"Manny, you don't understand the system," McDermott answered for Carl. "Detective Swenson thinks he's just doing his job. He is trying to find the guilty party and he is allowed certain liberties. He can sweat you—hoping you trip up—giving him what he needs. You are down here for questioning and please remember, you are on his turf and as long as he is fixated on you, you have to be careful."

"But I'm not guilty."

"He doesn't know that. Until he's confident you're not, he's dangerous. My job is to protect you from him and the system. You say the wrong thing, and this can go on and on. Would you like that?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you need me."

"I guess."

"Good, you stick to what I told you over the phone, and if anything makes you uncomfortable, stop and we talk about it, okay?"

"Who said talk is cheap, with your fee," Manny grumbled.

"Manny, for gosh sakes, this is not about money," Carl spoke up, "this is about your very freedom. This is about being able to afford the very best, when you really need it."

"I'm not concerned about the money, per say. It just irritates me to think that this bozo cop can push me around like this, on a hunch," Manny said as he pulled open one of the heavy oak doors, stepping back to let the two attorneys go ahead of him.

*

"Mr. Anderson, you keep trying to put the blame on Mr. Crane, why is that?" Detective Swenson was half sitting on the edge of his desk, eyeing Manny. Manny, McDermott and Andrews were all seated in Swenson's office.

"Because, I'm not guilty," Manny defended, "but someone else is, and he looks like a good enough candidate to me."

"Not to me Mr. Anderson, he looks clean. I think I told you before, Mr. Crane isn't the fastest car on the track. I think you are though, faster than normal that is. I don't know if all this was in your head before you ran into Crane or you recognized the perfect patsy, and decided to use the opportunity."

"What's supposed to be in my head?" Manny agonized.

"Your mid-life crisis, the reason you tried to get rid of your wife. She spoke of it to me."

"Swenson, get it out of your head, I don't want to get rid of my wife!"

"Why did you hire a hit on her then?"

"I didn't!" Manny was getting exasperated.

"You're the only one I can think of, might have a reason."

"You're obviously missing something, then, Detective. What about the person that removed the computer material?"

"Yes, that looks suspicious, but again, I think it was you."

"I don't know how to do it, everybody has told you that!"

"We're back to the hired gun again, aren't we?"

"I haven't hired anybody."

"You spent a lot of time in New York, a lot of hours unaccounted for. You want to come clean? You're hiding something Sir! We will find out everything, Mr. Anderson."

"There is nothing to find, believe me Detective, nothing at all!"

"Then you tell me, Mr. Anderson, in your mind, what is going on, who wanted your wife dead?"

"How the hell should I know, you're the detective. Eddy Crane has something to do with it, I'm sure of that."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Of course Crane is connected. He was supposed to take the fall when your wife was killed. Somebody set him up brilliantly. If it hadn't been for your mutt—"

"George. The mutt's name was George," Manny interrupted.

"Yes, of course. George is the real hero, isn't he?" Swenson leaned toward Manny, inferring it as an insult. "If George hadn't intervened, your wife wouldn't have had a chance, and we'd probably have nailed Crane for the murder. But fate stepped in and saved the likes of him. Weird huh? Now tell me Mr. Anderson, who else besides yourself had any contact with Eddy Crane?"

"Who the hell is manipulating Crane, that's the key?" Manny looked at Swenson.

"Brilliant Manny!" Swenson jumped up. "You see Anderson, it all points right back at you, and any moment now, my people will find the connection. We can all save a lot a time and the tax payer's money, if you come clean. In the long run, it will be easier on you too, after all nobody got hurt. You have a good lawyer here," Swenson indicated McDermott. "things shouldn't go too bad for you. You fess up right here, and you'll spend a lot less time behind bars than you deserve, I can guarantee that."

"Why go after Cassey, what would there be to gain?" Manny was thinking, looking at McDermott.

"Look, Mr. Anderson, we have the phone records from Eddy Crane's home in Yuma," said Swenson said, still on his track. "You called him from the Minneapolis airport and New York. You sent him to Alexandria, and if it hadn't been for George, he would have been nailed with the crime. I know he's not one to deserve any sympathy, but neither is the person who is doing this. An innocent woman was supposed to be murdered."

Manny didn't say anything, he was thinking furiously. What are we missing?

"You know Mr. Anderson, your silence doesn't help your situation. Ignoring me won't make me go away," Swenson advised.

"What will Swenson?" Manny shouted, surprising everyone in the room. "I've had about enough of this peckerhead!" Manny started to stand. He had lost his temper, but Jason quickly grabbed his shoulder, steering him back down into his chair.

"I can't figure out if you got lucky, or planned it all real careful?" Swenson said continuing to apply the pressure.

Manny remained silent, steaming, with Swenson staring him down.

After half a minute of quiet, Swenson spoke. "What was it Mr. Anderson, luck, or good planning?"

"I don't know what you're referring too?" Manny said, his teeth clenched.

"The hit! Who did you hire to commit the actual crime? We know Crane was going to take the fall, but who actually was out there, who did George tear into? I'll bet they aren't too happy with you, forgetting to tell them about that big, old, hound in the back seat. How that person has managed to elude us so far, like I said, is either really lucky, or really well planned."

"Well, it's simple Swenson, there is no one."

"Mr. Anderson!" Swenson got up from his desk quickly, pointing at Manny. "Someone killed your dog, someone scared the shit out of your wife, and someone left a truck full of blood at the Minneapolis airport. The blood matches the blood found on George's teeth. There is someone Mr. Anderson, someone that you hired! Now, who the hell is this person? I'm losing my patience, Sir!"

"I repeat detective, I don't know! I had nothing to do with the attack on my wife! I know George is always with her Detective, think about that one." Manny could see Swenson frown. Manny hadn't thought about it before Swenson brought it up, but whoever was involved hadn't realized that George always rode with Cassey.

"Is this true Manny?" McDermott asked. "Cassey always took the dog in her SUV, and you knew this?"

"Yes, always. Of course no one watching her would have realized that because George always stayed on the back floor, loved to go back there and sleep."

"Detective Swenson, I think we have an issue here?" McDermott said. "You've discounted Edward Crane because he had no dog bites. My client surely would have informed anyone he sent to harm his wife of the existence of that dog. Don't you think?"

"He could have overlooked some of the details. Sometimes this happens. A third party was hired, and a detail was missed. I guess it wasn't good planning, but good luck after all, hey Mr. Anderson?"

"Whatever! I'm truly sick of you and your pigheaded assumptions, Swenson. You do get stuck like glue."

"Why thank you. That's what I've been trying to impress on you. That's why you need to talk to me now. I will find out what happened, how you fit into all this," Swenson continued, confidently.

Manny was about to speak to try to make some kind of point to the detective, but said nothing, just looking at Swenson with a frustrated look on his face. Manny finally reverted to a shrug.

McDermott, sensing the impasse, spoke. "Well, regardless, I think this meeting is over, don't you Detective?"

"I don't want you leaving town Mr. Anderson," Swenson ordered.

"Is that an order of the court, or a personal request?" McDermott asked as he, Carl, and Manny got up to leave.

"I want Mr. Anderson where I can find him, if I need him," Swenson instructed.

"You call my office, and Mr. Anderson will be available within twenty-four hours. Is that satisfactory Detective Swenson?" McDermott asked as they walked through the door.

Swenson said nothing, just stared out the window.

*

"You think he took the thing about George serious? I mean, I don't look as guilty to him now, do I?" Manny asked.

"Hard to say what he's thinking," McDermott answered. "Maybe it was just a bit of miscommunication in his head. He's going to need something a little more solid than that to dissuade him, I'm afraid."

"What is it with these guys, don't they ever give up?" Manny asked. "I'm tired of the onslaught on my integrity. I don't deserve this."

"You've got to understand the mentality, Manny. Swenson and his type are necessary, they help keep us relatively safe. If you were really guilty, you'd be more than just annoyed with him, you'd be damn scared, isn't that right?"

"Got me there," Manny conceded. "You just earned your pay."

"You did well Manny. Stuck up for yourself at the right moments, put lots of holes in the Detective's assumptions. He might just come through for you."

"I'd enjoy watching him gnaw some other bone besides mine, that's for sure true."

Chapter 31

Manny headed for his car, the blustering cold wind pulling at his over coat making it difficult to walk properly. Manny was being real deliberate, moving carefully on the glaring ice.

Damn this weather, I hate this slippery shit. The worst sound in the world, walking on the snow and it squeaks like this. That means it is really cold! This is the worst part about winter, someday I'm going to bust my butt.

Manny walked past the front of his car, gliding his left hand on the hood, using the car for support. With his left hand still sliding along the hood he rounded the front, moving cautiously toward the driver's door. When he'd gotten as far as the windshield, he reached out for the door handle with the other hand, half turning to face the car. Just as he touched the handle, his left heel came down on the ice and slipped out from under him. Manny grabbed the door handle, still holding on as his body continued to turn, falling toward the ice. Everything happened so fast, the explosion of sound and the sharp blow to the side of his cheek didn't register immediately, but he let go of the car door handle, continuing down. The side of his face brushed the hard ice as he hit the ground. Manny started to shake his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but a big drop of blood splattered on the ice and he could feel a stinging in his left cheek.

Manny put his gloved hand up to his cheek and then looked at it. It was covered with blood.

*

When the authorities go over and over the incident with Manny, he cannot explain why he rolled under the car, immediately, saving himself. Not allowing whoever had tried to kill him another clear shot. The next thing Manny knew he's squirming under his car, trying to get to the other side. Somewhere in his confused mind two more loud bangs registered.

It wasn't until he was in the hospital, and the doctors and nurses were checking him over that they discovered another superficial flesh wound, basically a scratch across his calf. The forensic people find a ricochet mark on the ice, just below the car door, and a dent from a bullet on the bottom of the muffler. They find a bullet lodged deep in the sheet metal just below the door, between the car frame and body panel.

"All the bitching and belly aching about the snow and ice and it ends up saving my sorry ass, go figure?" Manny said laughing, sitting up on the doctor's table, Detective Swenson looking at him. Manny can't figure if the look of concern from the Detective is for him, or the complexity his case has now taken on."

"Do you know of anyone that would like to harm you?" Swenson asked.

"Yeah, probably the man who attacked Cassey, or do you think I set this up too?"

"It's unlikely. Someone tried to kill you, I'm pretty sure of that," Swenson announced.

"Well, thank you Detective!" Manny returned gleefully. "I was worried that you would assume this was all part of my master plan."

"No, Mr. Anderson, it is very apparent that someone wants you dead. Missing a little detail like George in the back seat may have come back to haunt you."

"What the hell are you getting at Swenson?" Manny shouted. "Do you think I'm still involved?"

"More than ever Mr. Anderson. This just confirms my suspicions."

"I don't believe this guy!" Manny shouted exasperated, looking at the doctor for some support.

"What is it with you?" Manny turned back to Swenson. "I told you, the original guy is still out there and now he's shooting at me."

The doctor didn't even look up, working diligently to bandage Manny's calf.

We no doubt have a real professional here, making sure I'll be fit and healthy so they won't have to carry me up to the gallows. I'll be able to make it all on my own, Manny thought, watching the doctor.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson, the case has taken a nasty turn," Swenson said, a little hesitation caught Manny off guard. He almost thought the detective was sympathizing, until he added, "For you because pissed off accomplices can be quite dangerous," Swenson continued, "as you just found out. The original crime was botched, and now whoever you hired is trying to cover their tracks. You see, Mr. Anderson, you should have told me who you hired, and all this could have been prevented. You nearly died because of your stubbornness to do the right thing." Swenson had a little patronizing smirk on his face.

"Where's Crane, are you looking for him?" Manny asked.

"Already found him," Swenson came back. "He's still in Yuma, right there at home. I just got off the phone with the locals. Look Mr. Anderson, we've checked Eddy Crane out. We gave him a real close look after the incident with your wife, and I can tell you, he never was a gun person, never shot guns. His brother said he was afraid of them, and afraid of everything. Crane even tried to go to a survival school, one of those white supremacist things a few years back. They had a part on sniper training, and Eddy Crane couldn't hit a bull in the ass with a spade. He was remembered, real clearly, as a complete incompetent with a gun."

"There's your connection. Crane met someone there, and he's the one that's hiring people," Manny surmised.

"No Mr. Anderson, no way, because Eddy made no friends there. He wasn't too well liked, and he came off as an insignificant wannabe. They just wanted his money. I'm sure of all this information because there was a government plant in the group."

"I'll bet you're real sorry the SOB missed!"

"No, Mr. Anderson, that would spoil my fun. You think you're going to get away, and I'm just as sure you're not."

"Did they break the mold after they cast you?"

"Insults are not in your best interest, Mr. Anderson."

"You are something else Detective! You're determined to ruin my life and you're concerned with insults. You're trying your very best to malign me with my family, my friends, and you don't like me criticizing your methods. When this is over—"

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Anderson?" Swenson was quick to cut Manny off.

"It sounds like he is, and I'll be right there helping him out, anyway I can," McDermott exclaimed, stepping out from behind the screen in the emergency room. Carl Andrews was right behind him. "Until you have more than just suppositions, Detective, you'd better take a look at all the possibilities."

"Are you making suggestions on how to do my job?"

"Yes, Detective, I am. I played on your side of the fence too, you know, and you're getting off base. When Mr. Anderson is found innocent, your methods will come back to haunt you."

"Okay, Mr. Anderson, I'm going to give you my undivided attention," Swenson announced. Let's look at everything again, from your perspective this time, and see what we're overlooking. Fair enough?"

"My god Swenson, you do have a circulatory system," Manny snipped.

"Enough of the smart ass stuff, Manny, the man is willing to listen," Andrews said.

"My gosh Carl, you used a bad word there," Manny laughed.

"Manny, you'll never change," Carl returned.

"Gentlemen, Manny says he's innocent and I believe him," McDermott added. "Why does he look so bad to the detective here? That's what we need to know?"

"When did this all start?" Swenson asked.

"I guess, Billy Palmer," Manny answered.

"What does he have to do with all this? I presume he's the Vietnam vet your wife told me about?" Swenson asked.

"Yes, we went to his funeral, and I decided to look into his life," Manny replied.

"Why?" Swenson asked.

"Andrews can explain it," Manny stated.

"I'm not sure I think the same as you do, Manny. I don't see any mystery about what happened to Billy," Carl returned.

"Just tell me about this Palmer," the detective said.

"We grew up with Billy," Carl said. "He was a kind of a rouge, even before the war. He went off to Vietnam and when he came back, he just didn't click anymore. He was sort of a loose cannon."

"We couldn't, or wouldn't accept him after he came back. I think we were jealous of him," Manny added.

"Manny ended up with his girlfriend, married her," Andrews added.

"The present Mrs. Anderson?" Swenson asked.

"The one and only," Manny responded. "The one I still love."

"How did this Palmer take it, I mean you stealing his girl?" Swenson asked.

"I didn't steal her. Billy was gone, and Cassey and I had been friends before and we just got together. Billy wasn't all that shook up about it."

"Humm, Billy Palmer, the ex-boyfriend, the ex-vet, you sure he's really dead?" Swenson asked.

"It was an open casket, it was Billy," Manny said.

"How did he die?" Swenson asked.

"I'm not sure, they just shipped the body back. The Veterans Administration paid for the funeral and I guess he was given a plot back here."

"He was a disabled vet, then?" Swenson commented.

"Yes, and decorated," added Manny added.

"I didn't know that?" Andrews said.

"You knew that he had been wounded?" Manny said.

"Yeah," Carl said. "first thing I heard, just after it happened, was he had lost an arm, but that was false. He came back in perfect health."

"I found out he was highly decorated," Manny said.

"I had no idea," Carl said.

"I imagine, because he never said too much about his experiences. Most of those guys don't," Swenson commented. "I'll look into this Palmer character, what next?"

"Geez, I don't know?" Manny said.

"The time line, Mr. Anderson, what did you do after the funeral?"

"I got on the phone and the computer, tried to find information about him, about his life."

"I thought you weren't computer literate," Swenson said suspiciously.

"I'm not, but Cassey led me through the whole thing. I can still just barely turn the damn thing on."

"I'm still not comfortable with that, go on," Swenson added.

"I contacted his sister, she wasn't to upset about his death. His family didn't have much to do with him, especially after the war."

"Why was that?" Swenson asked.

"I'm not really sure, he was sort of the black sheep."

"Yeah, even when we were kids, Billy sort of went his own way," Carl confirmed. "His parents never really bothered with him too much, let him do his own thing. His dad was okay though, but he treated Billy's friends better than he treated Billy, I remember that."

"Fathers can be tough, I know," Swenson said kindly. "Did the sister have anything to add?" Swenson continued.

"Not really, she had a husband that was also a Vietnam Vet, but he was a real loser and soured her toward all of them," Manny said.

"John Campbell, I can confirm that," Carl added. "That guy was nothing but bad news, before and after the service."

"Does he have any reason to fit into this?" Swenson asked.

"I doubt it, the last time I heard he was serving fifteen to twenty-five. Beat up his new wife, really bad," Carl said.

"He still in?" Swenson asked.

"I think so," Carl said.

"Where next?" Swenson asked.

"I found the guy Billy served with in Vietnam," Manny said.

"One guy, he must have had more than one buddy over there?" Swenson said.

"Yeah, but one in particular because Billy was a sniper, this guy was his partner," Manny explained.

"A sniper, what branch of the service was he in?" Swenson asked.

"Marines."

"A Marine sniper!" Swenson exclaimed. "When was he over there?"

"Sixty-six, sixty-seven, I'm not sure of the exact dates," Manny said.

"And you were shacking up with his girlfriend? You got balls Anderson, I'll give you that much. And you said he was highly decorated? He have any trouble in the Marines?"

"No, he was solid as a rock, I saw his records. Wait a minute, didn't you guys contact this partner, Mark Tainer, in New York"

"Mr. Tainer, yes, your wife gave me the number, and I have spoken to him about you Mr. Anderson. I was under the impression that you went to see him, about a book. He is a publisher I believe?" Swenson answered.

"Yeah, he's a publisher. What did he have to say?" I'm really curious about this one.

"Well, to tell you the truth Mr. Anderson, he's a little reluctant to say much. I got the feeling that he was afraid of you, same as your wife, not that I could blame him. After all, he just met you, and then all this happened. He would rather you stayed out of his life, anyway that's the impression he gave me."

"Yeah, he kind of flinched when I told him I had contacted Ed Crane," Manny confessed.

"Mr. Edward Crane, how did he come into the picture?" Swenson asked.

"I found a guy that Billy worked for years ago and he told me Billy had been married. I found the wife, or rather the father in law and went to see him, nice old man. Eddy Crane killed Billy's wife and daughter and served only seven years in some nut house, and then they set him free."

"I'm fully aware of the story, but why did you contact Mr. Crane?"

"Do you know the whole story Detective, why he only served seven years?"

"He was found innocent by reason of insanity, and he was eventually evaluated and considered no longer a threat to society."

"And you agree with this?"

"I don't make the rules, Mr. Anderson. He committed the crime, but was not cognizant of his actions. Whether or not I agree is not pertinent."

"Did you know how he was evaluated, what was used to determine his mental state when he committed the crime?" Manny asked.

"It's not relevant."

"He was given a full disability by the Veterans Administration. They gave a full disability pension to a man who was never 'in the service', and then blunder of blunders, he uses it to beat a murder rap."

Swenson didn't say anything for a moment. "He never served? I didn't know that. Are you sure?"

"Positive! I was on to him, and I was going to take his pension away!

"Interesting story Mr. Anderson, can anyone confirm this?"

"Mr. Wendell Guterraz, the father-in-law, give him a call, and he'll verify the whole thing. I have his number."

"I would like to process this before we go any farther, is that okay?" Swenson asked. "And Mr. Anderson, if this turns out to be correct, the information about Crane?" Swenson stopped, looking attentively at Manny.

"Yes Detective, spit it out."

"It could simply mean that you had a reason to mess with Crane's life," Swenson added.

Manny just chuckled, There's got to be a made in Quantico tag on him somewhere.

"And Detective, one more thing. My wife is genuinely mad at me, and that's my fault for disrupting her life, but she is afraid because she has been told things, not because I have given her any reason."

Swenson just nodded.

I'm not sure if it means he considered, or disregarded what I've said. You couldn't read this bugger, even if you had the blue prints.

*

"I checked everything out, Mr. Anderson." Detective Swenson said back in his office with Manny, Carl, and McDermott. "You seem to be telling me the truth, so far. I'm curious about one thing though?"

"Yes, Detective, how can I help you?"

"You located Eddy Crane so quickly, how'd that happen?"

"The cop on the case, the San Diego detective, Albright, Wendell probably gave you the name."

"Yes, but the detective was reluctant to talk much, said he never gave you the location of Crane."

"He didn't, he refused, said the case was closed, but, when I got back to my hotel the information was mysteriously there. It's like someone wanted me to do something about him, something they couldn't."

"Mr. Anderson, I can't verify your story. Information doesn't just pop up at hotels. I am very suspicious of you again."

"Whatever Swenson, but that's how I found Eddy Crane. Follow the story, how else would I have come across him, huh?"

"I'm not sure. Why were you spending all that time in New York?"

"We have gone over and over that! I was there to see Mark Tainer because he was interested in Billy and his writing."

"Mr. Tainer confirms that you met with him, but says the writing was not the entire reason. He says it's not very good, but you spent a lot more time there in the city than he verifies. What were you doing the rest of the time?"

Manny sat forward quickly. "He said that, Tainer told you that the book wasn't any good?"

"Yes, he said that it might yield something interesting, down the road, but it would take a lot of work on his part."

Bingo, Mr. Tainer, you S,O,B. Manny was silent, thinking.

"Mr. Anderson, again, what were you doing in New York?"

"But we did talk about Vietnam and Billy, quit a bit, he didn't tell you that?

"He said you talked, but not to any great extent.

"Mr. Tainer was a very busy man, I didn't want to take up to much of his time."

"How considerate," Swenson accused. "He's concerned about this problem you have here, and doesn't want to associate with you any farther."

"He said this?"

"Yes, he was very adamant about not furthering the relationship."

"I figured as much when he wouldn't take my calls," Manny said, quietly, thinking. "I can't believe he is trying to convince you he wasn't interested in Billy's writing."

"He said he may be interested in Billy's story in the future, but that's all. Now, what did you do with the rest of the time there?" Swenson the Quantico bulldog asked.

"I amused myself in other ways," Manny said, tired of the inquisition. "I like to walk the city, go to shows, and I started my Christmas shopping a little early this year, not that there's going to be anyone around to accept any of the stuff I bought."

"You have any receipts, ticket stubs?" Swenson asked, monotone, like he was getting bored too. "Ever go to Yonkers?" he fired with renewed vigor.

"I've got the credit card charges, they will come to my office, call my secretary," Manny said. He too was bored with the conversation. "What about Yonkers?"

"Did you go there?"

"I've been there, but not recently."

"When was the last time you went there?"

"Oh hell, I don't know, maybe three, four years, but not recently, no. What's in Yonkers?"

"A pay phone?"

"A pay phone, that's it, you want to inform me that there is a pay phone in Yonkers. What happened Deputy?" Manny laughed. "Why do they rate only one pay phone, Detective?"

"Someone called Eddy Crane from a pay phone in Yonkers," Swenson stated. "Same day as you were there."

"I told you, I haven't been to Yonkers in years!" Manny proclaimed.

"What reason did you go there?"

"To play golf, they have a really good course up there, and it was three summers ago. I'm not positive, but I can check."

"And you haven't been there since?"

"Nope."

"Eddy Crane got three calls from the same pay phone, same day. The day after he got two calls from the Minneapolis airport, also the same time you were there. All these calls got him upset enough to make him rush to Minnesota."

"I told you Detective, it, was, not, me!"

"Very well, sooner or later we'll find someone that can ID the caller, I'm sure of that," Swenson said, looking directly at Manny.

"Good, the sooner the better, because your diligence is spooking me."

"I keep telling you Mr. Anderson, I will find the truth."

"And, I keep telling you Detective, I'm really looking forward to that, really I am."

Chapter 32

"You fuckers, it's not enough that you try to railroad me for the assault on my wife, but now you're floating rumors of me being gay! What is wrong with you people?" Manny shouted at Swenson who was getting out of his car. Manny was standing outside the vehicle holding the newspaper, waving it, while Carl Andrews and Jason McDermott were both trying to get Manny to back away from the car.

"We are conducting a criminal investigation and we leave no stone unturned," Swenson said calmly shutting the car door, not in the least perturbed that his inquiries are complicating Manny's life.

"Investigation, your investigation has turned into an inquisition, have you seen this?" Manny thrust the newspaper at him, as Swenson headed toward his office.

"I don't write the news, Mr. Anderson," Swenson said, not taking the paper, still walking.

"I would think that as a public servant, you'd be careful not to make it either," McDermott added, following with Carl.

"I had nothing to do with that," Swenson said pointing at the paper in Manny's hand.

"Have you read it?" McDermott asked.

"I'm aware of its contents," Swenson answered.

Manny unfolded the paper and read. "Local man under investigation for attempted murder, gay connection revealed by the Sheriff's Department." Manny scrunched the paper up. "You had nothing to do with this?"

"Nothing," Swenson said, reaching the office door.

"Am I missing something here, or are we on different planets." Manny put his hand out, holding the door so Swenson couldn't fully open it. "You are the Sheriff's Department, am I not correct?"

"We released nothing about you being gay, and please release the door." Swenson said calmly.

"Well, that's comforting, considering that I'm not!" Manny shouted, as McDermott pulled his arm from the door. "Then how does a story like this end up getting printed?"

"I'm not required to divulge any of our investigation, especially to you."

Manny was so exasperated that he was unable to continue. Manny just stared at Swenson as the detective pulled the door fully open. It didn't seem to bother the detective as he went through the door into the building, a satisfying smirk on his face

This peckerwood is enjoying this. He thinks he's got me on the ropes, and I'm going to fall apart and confess the whole thing.

"Detective," Manny yelled, going through the door behind Swenson, the two lawyers scrambling up the rear, conferring about something. "in that narrow gage train of thought you use, does the possibility you might be wrong about me, ever surface?"

"If I'm wrong, you will be vindicated," Swenson said nonchalantly as he went into his office.

"No, I won't, not even close!" Manny was still on Swenson's heels. "You have done irreversible damage to my integrity in this community. You've entered my life, tossed around the pieces, and when you're gone, I'll be left to clean up the mess. Do you know I have to go to the next town to get food? Thanks to you, I'm a spectacle in a small Minnesota town! There's not a whole hell of a lot to do around here, or haven't you noticed?"

"You are the prime suspect in a heinous crime, and if I'm right, when we get what we need, your present problems will pale in comparison," Swenson said, sitting down behind his desk.

"That's your rational? Why, Mr. Anderson, it's not so bad now, why are you complaining so much, just wait until I can make it worse, save your breath. Is that it Swenson, is that what you're telling me?"

Manny was standing on the other side of the desk, his face red and puffy. The two lawyers were on either side of Manny, slightly behind, nervous looks on both their faces.

Manny and Swenson were silent. It was obvious that Swenson wasn't going to say any more, and Manny was weak from the frustration of dealing with the narrow minded detective. Both men just stare at each other, Swenson sitting back, hands on his thighs, turning side to side in small sharp actions, making the chair swivel with him, Manny, still standing, was ridged with anger.

Swenson finally broke the quiet deadlock, sitting forward, looking at McDermott. "We found a witness." He rolled his chair forward, moving up under the desk. "that can place your client in the proximity of the Yonkers pay phone," Swenson finished dramatically, slapping both palms on the desk top.

"Bullshit!" Manny stated, kind of rocking back on his heels, crossing his arms, looking even more defiant.

"A witness says he saw a man fitting your description buying a bottle of water in a convenience store." Swenson was smiling, looking Manny right in the face, tilting the chair forward. "Right around the corner from the pay phone that was used to call Eddy Crane."

"Did this witness see the man fitting my client's description, use the phone in question?" McDermott asked, suddenly stepping forward, drawing even with Manny. "And how did you find this witness?"

"We canvassed the neighborhood, and he is willing to testify. We also have a witness, a transit policeman, that is sure a man fitting your description," Swenson nodded to Manny, "was on the subway heading back into Manhattan. Coming from the North, coming from the direction of Yonkers."

"Not enough to convince a jury," McDermott said.

"Enough to bring him to trial," Swenson said. "We'll see how Mr. Anderson fares when it's all put together and presented to that jury. You think you can weather that storm, Mr. Anderson? Everything will be presented in a detailed timeline. We are connecting the dots, Sir. Auburn canvassed the Minneapolis airport." Swenson smiled, looking intently at Manny.

"What for, we all know I was there?" Manny answered quickly. "How is a witness spotting me on my way to New York going to make it any worse?"

"Did you use any phones in that airport?"

"No, I did not!"

"I guess playing dumb is about all you can do at this point, Sir." Swenson sat back again. "I hardly expect you to come forward with the truth, not now. Apparently you intend to play it out. Like I mentioned before, I thought that it was a spur of the moment crime. That you hadn't thought it through, just reacted when an opportunity presented itself, but I can see that there was careful planning involved, and you fully intend for this crime to go unpunished."

"What in the hell are you talking about, Detective?" Manny sounded tired of the ordeal.

"A vender in the airport remembers you buying a prepaid cell phone, or rather, a man fitting your description. That man also bought a golf magazine."

"Ha," Manny laughed. "I already have a cell phone so why would I get another one? I hate the damn things, ask Cassey, ask my secretary. I don't even take the thing with me half the time, I leave it in my hotel room because I use it mostly for messages, and I don't buy golf magazines because they are rags! You can also check that out with anyone that knows me."

"You used the phone to plan and execute a crime," Swenson laughed. "I don't exactly like the damn things either, but I use them. Deputy Conner tells me the whole plan was brilliant, prepaid cell phone calls can't be traced back to the caller. She is absolutely convinced though that you didn't facilitate the computer part, to high tech for you."

"Now you're insulting my intelligence?" Manny shouted, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward, toward Swenson.

"Now we're getting somewhere Manny!" Swenson pounced, also moving forward again. "Why don't you tell—"

"Hold on, I want to talk to my client," McDermott interrupted, jumping to head off Manny. Jason grabbed Manny by the arm and pulled him toward the door. Manny didn't go easily, making McDermott struggle, pulling the sleeve of Manny's jacket out of shape. Manny finally ripped his arm free of Jason's grasp and stopped, glaring at the lawyer. "I've had it with all these shit-turds."

"What do you think you're doing?" Jason asked angrily.

"I am sick of that guy!" Manny shouted, pointing at Swenson, but still looking at McDermott.

"I would be too." Jason pointed to the door. "Explain it to me, outside."

Manny hesitated, looking intently at the lawyer. "I'm sick of backing down! I'm not going to take this shit anymore!"

"Out, Manny!" Jason was still pointing at the door a stern look on his face. Manny and the attorney squared off, a match of wills in the making. Swenson sat calmly watching the confrontation, wondering if a definitive moment is at hand.

Manny finally relented. "Assholes!" he shouted, turning and heading out the door.

*

"Did you have anything to do with a cell phone, the one he is describing?" Jason asked, trying to keep up to Manny as he stormed down the hall.

"No, of course not!"

"Well, for Christ sakes, don't let him bait you. I thought we went over all this?"

"How can he get away with this? Aren't there any—"

"Manny, don't start acting like a child on me."

"You insolent SOB!" Manny came up short and turned quickly to confront the lawyer. "I don't have to take that from you!"

"Like hell, you don't! You hired me to cover your ass, and when you're thinking of getting stupid, it is my job to point it out," Jason lectured, right in Manny's face. "Now get your ass out of here, we have to talk." McDermott pushed Manny through the door that Carl Andrews already had open.

"I blew it huh?" Manny said, as the three men walked to the parking lot.

"You didn't blow anything," McDermott replied in a calm voice. "Swenson is forcing the issue, and you being innocent, are simply overreacting to his obsession. It's like I explained to you before, the detective needs reinforcement. He is certain he's is doing the right thing, he's certain you're the man. I got you out of there because the bullshit is mounting, and I'm convinced that we need to change our strategy," McDermott said as they reached the car.

Carl Andrews was getting into the passenger's side of the car, and suddenly commented to Manny. "That comment, the one about the witness seeing a man fitting your description?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Manny replied.

"Jason," Carl said to McDermott. "I was thinking all this was just one big mistake, that Cassey simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Manny was a suspect because he was the husband." Carl got into the car, thinking.

"What's on your mind Carl?" McDermott asked.

"The thing about the golf magazine?"

"Yeah, go on."

"Manny, I seem to remember that you didn't like golf magazines even when you were a kid, correct?" Carl asked.

"Yeah, they're bullshit."

"And you'd never buy one?" McDermott asked, picking up on Carl's direction. "Is there any proof of this?" he asked Manny.

"Any one that knows me is all. I won't even allow them in my office. If I could keep them out of the stores, I would," Manny stated.

"I seems likely that someone is trying to make you look guilty. Someone that knows you like golf, but didn't realize that you don't buy the magazines."

"That's what I've been trying to tell everyone!" Manny shouted. "You SOBs weren't certain I was innocent then?"

"It's like reading a book Manny. You wrote it so you know how it goes. Carl and I are reading it and we may have an idea about how it ends, before it does, but we're not sure until we finish, and it's our job to not jump to conclusions until the page is turned."

"Whatever!" Manny growled.

"Manny, Carl and I have conferred and we feel it is time to establish a defense," McDermott said calmly.

"A defense for what?" Manny sounded pissed.

"The evidence is all circumstantial, but it is compelling, and if they find a motive, some proof of you having a good reason to want your wife out of the way, we've got problems."

"I don't want to talk to you two!" Manny yelled, slamming back hard into the back seat. "This is all bullshit! Swenson is fabricating the whole thing. You two warned me this could happen, the Gestapo mentality could get out of control, and now you're ready to throw me to the wolves."

"Calm down, Manny," Carl pleaded.

"Calm down? Fuck you, Swenson and his raged band are coming up with all these witnesses that are burying my ass. How can that be?"

"Witnesses are notoriously unreliable," Jason said. "I can go talk to these same people and they'll tell me what I want to hear, the same thing they did for the authorities, and more than likely they may be stage players, like the guy with the magazine."

"God, I'm sick of this!" Manny said, expelling a big breath.

"Look, it's Christmas Eve, we're all going home," Carl said. "I'll go tell Swenson so he can be with the kids, polish his gun or something."

Chapter 33

"Come on Betty, what are you trying to do?" Manny pleaded into the phone, sitting watching the fire, a drink in his hand. "I have the right to talk to my family."

"Manny Anderson, you've lost that right. You are sinful and dangerous," Cassey's mother scolded.

"What are you talking about? I'm being railroaded. You can't believe all those things about me? You've known me for many years, Betty. A relationship of trust doesn't just disappear overnight. Not because of innuendoes, at least it shouldn't."

"Manny, I've never trusted you. You and that ridiculous sense of humor, or that's what you call it. I call it childish. You've never grown up Manny and this just proves it. How could you do this to Cassey and the kids?"

"I haven't done a thing!"

"My daughter and my grandchildren are hiding, afraid for their lives, and you're trying to convince me that you haven't done anything. Manny grow up."

"Is Ed there?"

"Ed is not here, and if he was, he wouldn't want to talk to you either."

"You finally got your way, huh Betty? All these years of lying in wait paid off. I'm sorry we couldn't solve our differences before you were presented with the opportunity of a life time."

"You are a godless man, Manny Anderson, and that is a sin that can't be forgiven. You lead my daughter and my grandchildren down a path of sin, and I only hope that there is salvation and a spot in heaven for them, now that they are free of you, thanks to that nice detective."

Don't say it Manny, don't provoke her. This is not a good time, the old bat has the edge. How can Ed put up with her?" Manny hung the phone up.

*

"Hey Carl, Manny Anderson, remember me? How the hell's it going?" Manny said loudly into the phone.

"Manny are you drunk?"

"Damn right I am! And do you know why Carl?"

"No, Manny, I don't."

"Because, Mr. legal eagle, I'm having a lousy Christmas," Manny was slurring his words. "I'm sitting here at home, all alone on Christmas Eve, and I can't find anyone to talk to. Since I'm paying you, I decided you can't hang up on me, so I called. How's that for a reason to get blasted? Does that fit the bill? It's the only thing I could find to do, getting hammered that is. What can I do for you?"

"Manny, you're not making much sense, you called me."

"That's because people drink to forget, not to make sense," Manny laughed. "Does that make sense? No wait, people drink to wash away the pain. Yeah, that's it, I got pain Carl. Oops," Manny laughed again. "I did have pain, but the alcohol 'has' kicked in, and now I'm fine. Of course I'll have a rip roaring hangover in the morning, but that'll be tomorrow, won't it? I'll bet you I won't drink tomorrow, no sirry, but for the rest of this day I'll be just fine, thanks to the booze."

"Manny, things aren't as bad as you're making them out to be."

"Bullshit, Swenson the Savage Swede figures he has enough to arrest me now. How much worse can it get?"

"An arrest is a long way away, Manny. You're over reacting."

"I'm am thinking of getting the hell out of here."

"What?" Carl shouted. "Don't do that? You can't solve anything by running away. Manny, please, let McDermott do his job."

"His job! Who's job is it to find who the hell is doing this to me, huh? Carl, who do we hire to take care of that? I'd be willing to pay him overtime, by the way, or maybe we need a woman. Yeah, a woman with big tits, they get answers faster. He could make a lot more than you are, no, we decided it was a she. Boy, just think, I wouldn't need you and McDermott because I wouldn't be guilty anymore."

"If someone is setting you up, it will come out," Carl assured.

"If, if! God-damnit Andrews, someone is screwing me over here. I know this because I am innocent. You hear me Carl! In-no-cent! How would you like to be in-no-cent on Christmas Eve, and getting drunk instead because no one believes you? Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Oops, that's not right is it," Manny chuckled. "I'm drinking, not smoking. There's where I made my mistake. Is there a cliché about getting bombed that fits the bill?"

"Go to bed Manny."

"I guess I'll have to, to fuckin drunk to drive."

"Oh, for gosh sakes Manny, do not get in your car, you hear me."

"I already said I was too drunk to drive, lawyer dude. Shit, I couldn't even find the keys, even if I had to. Shit, I probably couldn't even find the car." Manny laughed heartily. "So don't worry counselor, I'm isolated for the evening, out of the loop. Can't get in anymore trouble, so don't worry oh lawyer of mine. Hey you know what?"

There was a clattering sound as Manny dropped the phone. Manny fumbled for a moment, finally getting the phone back to his ear, but didn't say anything. Carl can hear Manny breathing

"Manny, you there?" Carl finally asked.

"Hey Carl, thanks for getting back to me," Manny slurred. "Where was I?"

"You're having a lousy Christmas," Carl sighed.

"Oh yeah, that's where I was. Yeah, that's why I'm drinking, right?"

"Manny, I have to go!"

"This is probably going to be my worst Christmas ever, huh Andrews? Tell me it's not possible to have a worse one, will you Andrews, huh, will you?"

"No Manny, it's not likely that you'll ever have one this bad again. Now put the bottle away and 'go-to-bed'."

"The bottle, what bottle? Shit Andrews, I lost the goddamn bottle. Carl, I can't find my bottle. What am I going to do now? Shit, guess I'll just have to go to bed. Thanks for calling Carl." Manny hung up.

Chapter 34

Manny was cradling a steaming hot cup of coffee in both hands, looking forlornly out the window of the kitchen. More snow had piled up over the night and the back yard was a white picture postcard.

"All this crap, and now a hell of a hangover to go with it. Good going Anderson," Manny said quietly to himself, the ringing phone bringing him back to reality. Manny just stared at it, not sure if he wanted to talk to anyone the way he's feeling.

"Christ, someone sure wants to talk," Manny said annoyed, as the phone continued to ring.

"Give it up, paleeese!" Manny shouted at the ringing phone.

"God dammit!" Manny said, finally relenting and reaching for the phone.

"Hello, I'm in a shitty mood," Manny shouted into the phone, "and I have a hangover! So state your business and be gone."

There was silence from the caller.

"Come on, you called me, so don't be shy. Take your shot, shit all over my parade," Manny snarled into the phone.

"How dare you talk to me like that," Cassey snarled back from the other end of the line.

"Oh shit, Cassey. I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd hear from you. I'm sorry, please don't hang up," Manny begged.

"I don't know Manny, I don't like your tone. What's gotten into you, you would never answer the phone that way? What is your problem?"

"It's Christmas morning, my family is gone, left me. I have a hell of a hangover, and every time I look out the window, I visualize Detective Swenson standing out in the snow, waiting to take me in. I'm Red Pine's criminal of the century, and I don't relish the notoriety"

"Other than all that, how are you doing?"

"Christ Cassey, I just told you how I am. Am I supposed to gloss it over, go find my suit of armor and put it on."

"I don't know Manny, you got yourself into this."

"How, how the hell did I get myself into this, huh?" Manny shouted. "You tell me, what is it I've done that warrants this?"

"I don't know Manny, but I sure haven't done anything either, and I'm spending Christmas away from my house."

"Well, come on back, then," Manny said happily, excited about the thought.

Cassey was silent.

"What's the problem, you can come home? We can salvage the rest of the holidays, anyway?" Manny pleaded. "Come on, what do you say?"

"No, Manny, I don't think that would be wise."

"Why, what the hell is wrong with our getting back our lives?

"We aren't going to get our lives back until whoever is doing this is caught."

"Cassey please, don't shut me out. You're all wrong about this, all of you, and I need your help, please."

"Manny I'm scared, don't you understand. I don't know what to do. In my heart I can't fathom you being involved, but in my head, I don't know."

"I am not involved!"

"If you hadn't started this, it wouldn't have happened."

"I know, but I never intended for it to get this serious."

"You do know what is happening, then?" Cassey said with a faint whisper.

Manny can't sense if she's cautious, or curious.

"I think so, but I can't prove it, not yet."

"Manny, my god, my mother is right, I can't believe it."

"Oh Cassey, she sees the Devil everywhere, you know that."

"She's not accusing you of being the Devil, but she says you are bored, and that's the Devil's tool. You have let your curiosity lead you astray."

"Yeah well, don't put too much faith in people's opinions, they tend to follow their wishes."

"I know you don't like my mother, but I feel safe here. I don't feel that way with you anymore."

"I understand, but keep an open mind about me. I will prove to you that I am being set up. I need to know about the man that attacked you, please help me."

"Ask Swenson, I gave him everything I remembered."

"I've gotten Swenson's official report, but that man is holding out. I don't think everything is in there. He's holding a lot of stuff close to his chest. I can hardly wait for this to be over so I can dance on 'his' dilemma, just like he's doing to me."

"I already told Swenson, he was a tiny man, looked like an elf because his ears stuck out. Probably had red hair."

"Why would you say that?"

"He had watery, pale blue eyes. Most people with those eyes usually have red hair, that's why."

"An elf with a ski mask on, Santa must be having trouble keeping people."

"Oh, you joke," Cassey chastised. You have such a great defense, you're so pragmatic about everything. I loved it there Manny, all the time, not selective like you. I loved that road because it was my peaceful place. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back there. Do you have any idea what I've lost?"

Manny was silent. Red Pine will never be the same, she's right. Manny hung up the phone without responding, knowing there was nothing more he could say.

Right now I'm jealous of Billy. His definitive moments were in Vietnam and he could leave it behind." Manny sat quietly, a neutral look on his face.

My god, Cassey and I are having our first reality check, and it's on our doorstep. Red hair, ears that stick out. Where have I heard that before?"

*

Manny quickly dialed another number and waited. The phone was answered on the fourth ring.

"Swenson, you talked to Betty Boop," Manny said annoyed.

"Betty who? And what are you doing calling me at home, on Christmas Day?" Swenson didn't sound pleased.

"You gave me the number to confess, if I decided to, remember?"

"Are you confessing?"

"Hell no, I'm just pissed about you calling Betty Boop."

"Who is Betty Boop?"

The Betty, Cassey's mother. That must've been enlightening. She's a little bit round the bend you know."

"I didn't get that impression."

"Swenson, Christ, she sees Jesus in her tea leaves."

"She's a Christian, do you hold that against her?"

"I don't hold anything against her, it's the other way around. Cassey was raised in a house where she was intimidated by her mother's religious zeal. Cassey never went for it and was relieved to get out, away from the constant brow beating. Cassey has her own beliefs and chooses her own way of practicing them. I never have, and never will interfere with that."

"It's Christmas, anything more important to tell me?"

"No, I just wanted to congratulate you for covering all the bases," Manny said mad, slamming the phone back into its cradle.

*

Later that day, a car came driving up Manny's driveway, but he couldn't make out who was in it. Manny pulled on a jacket and went outside. The car pulled right up to the garage, but whoever was inside didn't get out. As Manny approached the car, the driver's side window slide down and Manny recognized Deputy Conner sitting behind the steering wheel.

"Mr. Anderson, can I talk to you?" she asked.

Manny approached the open window, a peeved expression on his face. "Deputy Conner, what a surprise."

"Mr. Anderson, I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind?" Conner said, still in the car. It was evident that she didn't want to get out.

"You're trying to ruin my life so please don't patronize me also. My enemies call me Manny," he said, walking up to the open window.

"Yes, Manny, ah, I want you to know, ah, I'm not in line with the department. I think that's how Detective Swenson would phrase it."

"Well, Deputy, you must be out of line then. In that case, you definitely can call me Manny. What's on your mind?"

"This case, what's happening to you."

"Are you sure you want to discuss this with me, I mean, after all, Swenson is your boss, and I'm sure he wouldn't be too happy about you disclosing anything to me."

Conner sat there quiet for a moment, thinking.

"I don't like my job anymore," she finally said. "I think you're innocent and I don't like Swenson, and I don't like Auburn. Why is it so bad to help you prove that? I got into law enforcement to help people, keep them safe. I just don't get that feeling anymore."

"What's your problem is, Deputy Conner, is—"

"Carrie, please call me Carrie," Conner interrupted.

"Okay, Carrie. The problem you're experiencing is that you might have a conscience, you might have feelings. Your cohorts only remember being assembled and then packaged somewhere."

"Packaged?"

"It was a reference to them being extremely anal, you know robot mentality. Ah, I make up mental personalities for the people I deal with, you know in my head, and Swenson reminds me of the star in a futuristic cop movie, the indestructible half human, half machine character, unrelenting and undetourable.

"That's Detective Swenson all right, but Auburn is just plain dumb." Carrie started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking, you compared Swenson to a robot. If you were to compare Auburn to any machine, I wouldn't go any higher than a can opener."

It was Manny's turn to laugh. "You mean I have nothing to worry about from Auburn?"

"Oh, no, Mr., excuse me Manny, he's just dumb enough to be dangerous. He hangs on any word that Swenson says. He's the perfect model for Swenson, doesn't care about anything but career advancement, and Swenson is the top dog, if he's looking to go far, up in these woods. Auburn is the one that started the gay suspicions."

"How the hell did he manage to get it in the paper?"

"He went out to the lake, to that gay resort. He figured that if you were gay, you'd be known out there."

"Well, I'm not, just for your information. Swenson sent him out there? Didn't Super Sleuth realize it would be enough to start the rumor, or didn't he care? I'm big news around here, because it's Cassey and me, and the assaults, and anything juicy is a short step to publication. There are reporters from the cities here, for Christ sakes."

"It wasn't Swenson, he just instructed Auburn to check out if you might be gay. Auburn got the flash all on his own."

"What does Swenson think of it now?"

"He says that if you are gay, it will come out now, for sure."

"And now it's a crime to be gay?"

"I don't know what he's thinking, but I'm just sick about what's happening. I've always wanted a relationship like you and your wife have, and now I'm expected to do everything I can to tear it apart. My husband only wants me—the little woman—for a conventional wife. The only reason he agrees with my working is the money. He would be a lot happier if I was only a waitress. The responsibility I have is too much for his fragile ego."

"Sounds like you and the Mr. are headed for trouble?"

"We passed trouble a long time ago. I want you to know, if there is anything I can do for you, I will try."

"No, you lay low. I don't want to see anyone else get burned by the zealots, unless the two Super Heroes cross the line, that is."

"I think they did with the New York connection."

"In what way?"

"I was the one that went there, to check, to look for evidence."

"And."

"I didn't find anything concrete, but it looked like somebody might be out to make you look bad. But, I'm not an experienced investigator."

"Did you meet with this Mark Tainer?"

"Yes, I interviewed him."

"What was your impression of him?"

"Kind of into himself, if you know what I mean?"

"Not really, can you elaborate?"

"He said he didn't want to help us point the finger at anyone, meaning you, but he was very helpful to us. I think he was very impressed with how he manipulated me."

"Deputy, you are observant, something a cop needs. Maybe you should reconsider leaving the job."

"I didn't say I was leaving the occupation, just thinking of changing locations."

Chapter 35

"For those of you still stuck in a snow bank, I have good news," the morning weather man announced over the radio. "We have a warming trend headed our way. Temperatures today will hit the low thirties, tomorrow the low forties, and the next day, back to Minnesota in winter. Ice on the roads, goodbye, at least temporarily. Remember, it's still January."

Manny sat at the kitchen bar, a cup of coffee in his hands, looking out the window, fantasizing about the snow melting and spring coming. But the warning, about it only being January, from the guy that was supposed to know, struck home. It was time to go south. If spring wasn't going to come to him, he would go to spring he decided, as Carl and Jason walked into the kitchen.

"Manny, someone is out to get you," Jason whined. "You need to find the lowest point possible, curl up in a ball, and pull something over yourself for the time being. Not expose yourself."

"He's not going to listen to you McDermott," Carl said. "I know this guy, he's about as determined as there is. Am I right Manny, you're not about to do the sensible thing, and let the authorities handle it, are you?"

"The authorities haven't made it past the setup yet. How long do I wait Carl? How long is it going to take for them to figure it all out?"

"A lot quicker, if you tell them what you know."

"Bah, I only have suspicions, and I already told Swenson about Tainer, and he didn't do anything."

"He didn't find anything," Carl commented.

"There you go," Manny announced.

"Manny, don't do something stupid!" Carl begged. "They can't arrest you with what they've got, and they certainly can't take you to trial. You go off cowboying, and who knows what will happen."

"I love you guys and your lawyer mentality. You tell me don't worry, there's not enough to make it official, they can't put you in jail, yet. I know that's what I'm paying you for, to keep me out of jail. You're both giving me speeches based on your job descriptions. What I'm having a problem with is beyond that, it goes all the way to my freedoms. I certainly don't want to go to jail, especially since I'm not guilty of anything, but my life has been turned upside down and someone is using the system to do that. And very effectively I might add. Considering how important my good life is to me, I think I should turn it over somebody that can understand the weight of this problem, and that would be me."

"But, Manny, this is way out of your league. The worst thing you can do is make yourself vulnerable. Somebody is trying to kill you," Carl pleaded

"Yeah, and I can't sit around doing nothing about it. You expect me to just sit and wait it out? Is that your solution Carl?"

"I don't know Manny, I just think that you could hire somebody or something. Get somebody that does this sort of thing."

"I'll think about it, but for now, I'm still the only one I've got."

"What are your plans?"

"I'm going on the lamb for starters. It's harder to hit a moving target."

"I don't think Swenson is going to like that, we promised him you would be available," Jason declared.

"Fuck Swenson, it's 'my' turn to piss 'him' off."

"Manny, he's the law, he's got the system behind him," Carl said. "Just a warning, Manny. I know we can't stop you, and I'm not going to try anymore, but you stay in contact with us, you hear. I don't know what Swenson will do, you cut and run, but if he pulls the reigns in, you'd better be available. You hear me, Manny?"

"I hear you Carl, and I'll keep you informed. If anything goes wrong, I'll let you know what to do with the body."

"Jesus Manny, for christ sakes, stop the joking around."

"Joking, I'm not joking Carl. Someone is trying to kill me, and I'm pretty sure they're not new at this. What a set up," Manny continued. "I need you guys to protect myself when I've done nothing wrong. The system says I pay you regardless of what's right or wrong, I just pay, and be thankful."

Chapter 36

Manny took a cab down to the local Chevy dealer and was standing in the show room, talking to Stan Markowitz. Stan and his father owned the dealership, and Stan and Manny had been friends since school days.

"Come on Manny, let me put you in this Vet. You need some excitement in your life," Stan said.

"Jesus Stan, I've got all the excitement I can handle. Haven't you heard?"

"Shit Anderson, that'll all blow over. I mean some real thrills. This baby really flies." Markowitz had the classic salesman stance and his hands were directing Manny's attention to the racy, white car. "Handles like a dream, and I promise, it'll give you a new lease on life."

"Probably end up killing myself, remember the last hot car I had?"

"You were a dumb ass kid then, besides this is a real machine, not that straight line, suicide, piece of junk you had. This is the latest in technology, three hundred pounds lighter than the regular Corvette, a hundred more horses, and bigger brakes. This thing handles and brakes like a dream."

"You already said that. You're starting to sound like a friggin salesman, repeating yourself."

"Manny, just take it for a week or so, see what you think. I'm telling you, you'll fall in love with it."

"I don't know, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I need a car, considering the old one is down at the cop shop with bullet holes in it."

"There you go Anderson, if anyone's after your sorry ass, you can leave em in the dust with this baby."

"Yeah, what're you going to say if I bring it back with holes in it?"

"Is it that serious Manny? I thought this whole thing was just blown out of proportion."

"It's serious Stan."

"I can't believe it. I've known you for a long time and I don't believe it one bit."

"What can't you believe, what part is it you're not going for?"

"Well, for one thing, I know you're not gay. Who the hell started that?"

"That dumb fuck cop."

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting the prick, but I'll guarantee, he'll never set foot in this place."

"I appreciate the support, I haven't been getting much lately."

"Yeah, I heard Cassey left, but she'll come to her senses."

"I don't think her reasoning is all that stupid, considering what's happened."

"What the hell's going on Manny? I've known you guys for a long time, and it just doesn't fit? Am I missing something?"

"Big money."

"Huh?"

"Something big and powerful, something that could get me killed. Still want to give me the car?"

"Hell yes, we're friends. A hundred cars can't compare with that."

"How many cars could compete with the story of a life time?"

"What are you talking about?"

"How many cars could equal the movie of the year, of the decade?"

"Manny, you're not making any sense."

"What if I told you this was all because of a story."

"About Palmer? Shit, he did his thing in the war, I guess. He was a daring bastard, and I don't doubt he might have gotten involved in some exciting shit, but nothing worth any cash."

"You knew him pretty well, didn't you?"

"Yeah, he was a character, and he sure could drive."

"Where did you hear about the Palmer connection?

"That dip shit Marilyn. She was in here, blabbing as usual."

"Christ Stan, you know you can't believe her."

"I take her money, I don't take her serious," Stan laughed. "I'm smarter than that."

"Let's hope so. The story isn't about Billy, it's something he wrote."

"His book? The one he was writing, the sci-fi?"

"Yeah his book, you knew about it?"

"Oh sure, he approached me about it, a long time ago."

"And?"

"And the old man. Billy told me about it and I read a little. Fascinating story, but I was the grunt back then. Dear old dad wouldn't have nothing to do with something as silly as that, so I forgot about it. Does it come back to haunt me?

"Not really, unless you like lots of money."

"Ah shit, I live for the stuff, you know that Anderson."

"Yeah, well Palmer had something big, we all should have paid better attention."

"No shit, poor Billy. What did him in, you ever find out?"

"No, and I don't know if I really want too. I feel bad enough as it is."

"So this is why someone is trying to rub you and Cassey out. It's that big?"

"Oh yeah."

"Shit Manny, are you serious, or just fuckin with me?"

"I'll trade you the car for a manuscript, then you tell me."

"What else do you need?" Stan asked.

"Nothing really, but I'm planning to take a trip, to sort of disappear and clear my head, that sort of thing. Still want to give me the car?"

"Hell, yes, you should probably get a fuzz buster though. If you want to go fast, they come in handy," Stan advised.

"Sounds like a good idea, throw one in."

"Not me old pal, slightly illegal, but go see Keaton. He'll sell you one of his."

"Is that guy still fooling with his weird electronics?" Manny asked.

"Yup, weirder than ever though," Stan laughed. "Guy's a real genius. I keep telling him he should go to work for some big company, but he says that would just hold him back. He claims he has a computer that programs itself."

"There's a great leap for ya, machines that don't need us. I hope they don't decide that we're in the way, like not necessary, the way we constantly shit in our nest."

"Jesus Manny, I never considered that. Shit, I hope Keaton isn't as smart as I think he is."

"Well, he's always been the guy I would figure to blow up the world," Manny chuckled.

"Damn, now you got me worried Anderson. Kenny is just over the border in Wisconsin, I'll give you the address."

Chapter 37

A quick thrust with the left leg down and then immediately back out on the clutch petal, timed with a sharp rearward snap of the right hand, and a flick of the right foot on the throttle, and the car transmissioned into second gear, the gut wrenching acceleration barely interrupted. Manny watched the tachometer wind furiously up again, and less than three-seconds later he slammed the car into third gear, the speedometer well past one hundred miles an hour, climbing like the hand of a clock gone mad. The whole time the acceleration forces pushed his body steadily into the seat.

The speedometer passed one-hundred-thirty just as the tachometer reached the red numbers at seven-thousand and Manny shifted the car hard into fourth gear, the machine continuing it's hard snarling charge. The Corvette Z06 was still pushing him hard into the seat as the numbers quickly approached one fifty and seven thousand respectfully. This time Manny pulled his foot back on the accelerator and shifted into the fifth gear, but just letting the car cruise. Manny saw a gentle turn in the road just ahead, and came into it still holding the one hundred and fifty.

This is nuts Anderson, you're going too fast, back off, you're going to kill yourself. A slight apprehension, as Manny worked the curve. Shit, this thing feels like it's got paws, Manny delighted, coming out of the corner. I can't believe how this car holds the road. I went through that corner like nothing. I can't believe a car can do that.

Manny watched the long highway curve disappearing quickly in his rear view mirror, a wicked smile on his face.

Thank you Stan. To hell with all the heavy shit, I feel like a kid again. Oh, oh, car coming, better start acting my age again. Manny reluctantly started to bleed off the speed, approaching the coming auto and passing at a sensible eighty-five. Oh, oh, a town coming up in the distance, I guess my fun is over for the day.

*

Manny had left the highway looking for food and gas. He pulled into a travel center and stopped at one of the pumps. He went inside to pay, wanting some snacks and something to drink.

Manny was just screwing the gas cap back in place, when a car speeding down the highway suddenly hits the brakes, a little too hard, trying to slow down enough to make the turn into the gas station. It was just a slight squealing of tires, but enough to get Manny's attention. He watched a big, sporty, black, euro sedan coming his way. The car turned into the next lane of gas pumps and drove through rather fast, the driver looking the other way. Just as the car was going past Manny, on the other side of the pumps, the driver turned to look straight ahead. Manny saw the driver from the side for just a moment. It was a small skinny guy, he could make out that much. A small skinny guy with protruding ears, and very red hair.

Nothing registered with Manny until he was back in the Vet and back driving on the highway. He looked in his rear view mirror to check on traffic behind him, as customary, and spotted the big black car just coming on the highway, turning the same way he was going. Manny got the strangest sensation of dread, looking back on the car, suddenly realizing who he might have just seen.

*

An hour later, Manny left the freeway and drove into a city, looking for the address Stan gave him for Kenny Keaton. Manny used the GPS navigation in the car and the place he was looking for was a snap.

"Manny, friggin Anderson, how the hell you doing?" A skinny, bald man shouted, as Manny walked into an electronics shop. "Long time no see. What has it been, twenty-five years?"

"At least that long Electron," Manny said, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

"Geez, I haven't been called that in ages."

"I hope you're not offended?" Manny laughed.

"No, no, not at all, brings back pleasant memories, back when things weren't so serious."

"Things been tough for you?"

"Oh no, I just remember life as being a lot more fun when we were kids," Kenny said. "I have two of my own now, and their world is full of, as we would say, heavy shit. I think we grew up in the last good time."

"I guess, but we had our problems then too."

"Not like today, things are going too fast," Kenny commented.

"Coming from you that scares me," Manny returned. "I always thought you were on top of things."

"Still am, and trust me, our society is not ready for what's ahead."

"Great, I should dig a hole and pull the dirt in after me?"

"Nah, not you, you're smart, successful, you're safe."

"I guess you haven't heard?"

"I talked to Stan, he called, said you'd be by."

"So you know the mess I got myself in?" Manny said.

"Stan said you were bored, and consequently blowing it out of proportion."

"Got two bullet holes in my car."

"Maybe somebody thought you were a deer."

"Ha, ha, they went after Cassey too."

"Well, she looks more like a deer than you do. Stan's sure whoever is responsible has backed off, he can't see them still after you. That's according to Stan, however."

"They're still there. I saw one of them an hour ago."

"Whoa, how could they know where you are? Stan said you left this morning, and he's told no one about the new car, or which direction you headed. Anybody else know you were coming here?"

"Not a soul, but I just started watching my rear end to see if anyone's been following after the thing at the gas station. I'm pretty sure that's not possible."

"Some of those guys are good, you might not have spotted a tail."

Manny pointed out the front of the shop to the low, sleek, white car parked at the curb. "I had that Vet up to a hundred and fifty, how could anyone stay with me without me knowing it?"

"Someone else going one fifty," Keaton stated. "But," Keaton hesitated. "I'd think they would tend to stick out." Keaton hesitated again. "So you might be right?"

"Yeah, that's what I was figuring. I'm almost positive I spotted the guy that went after Cassey."

"Positive?"

"Oh yeah! I got chills down my spine when I saw him," Manny confessed.

"There are other ways to track you," Kenny said.

"Like what?"

"A simple transmitter, something like that."

"I went to see Stan, he gave me the car, I put my things in it and left. How could anyone slip a transmitter in on me?"

"Your things, it could be in there?"

"No shit? I didn't think of that. What the hell do I do now?"

"Not to worry sport, I can sweep for a bug, it's really simple."

*

Five minutes later, Keaton, using a small hand held device, announced. "It's in your phone, and the phone has been rigged."

"Dammit, how could I have been so stupid," Manny growled.

"How were you supposed to know?" Keaton responded.

"What did they do to it?"

"Well, it's got a chip that gives out the exact location, a GPS."

"The satellite thing? Got one in the car."

"The satellite thing," Kenny concurred. "Whoever did the phone, knows its position to within five feet."

"Oh man, that fucker set me up big time."

"Want to hear the rest of it?"

"There's more?" Manny exclaimed. "Might as well."

"Don't sound so violated! You could have the upper hand now, don't blow it."

"What're you getting at Electron?"

"Anderson! Apparently someone is out to get your ass, and they worked one on you."

"No shit! So?"

"You know about the phone, don't let them in on it. Make them think you don't know about it and that's your advantage."

"But they can follow me?"

"Jesus, dip shit, think!" Kenny yelled. "You can lead them to where you want. Are you really that dense?"

"Ah!" Many hesitated. "No, but actually, I would just as soon never see those guys again."

"So then, call the cops."

"They think I'm guilty."

"So, what are you going to do Anderson? Who the hell is after you, and what are you going to do about it? Huh, answer me that?"

Manny took a deep breath, thinking. "I don't know, I can't keep running. I have to get Cassey back, and right now she thinks I'm a big screw up."

"So do something!" Kenny exclaimed. "By the way, they also rigged your phone to make only certain calls. If you dial any number other than the one they want, you will get a bad signal alert."

"No way, that phone has been working perfectly all along."

"That's how it's rigged, smuck. When whoever is controlling it can signal the phone when they want, and it will no longer work properly."

"And you think this is an advantage?"

"Get another phone Anderson!" Kenny said, talking to Manny like he was a spoiled child. "I'll give you a new one, and then work a reverse dupe back on 'them'."

"You know, I'm about ready for that!" Manny said excited. "I've been fucked with long enough. You're right Keaton, everyone's been taking a piece out of my ass, and it's time for a pay back."

"Atta boy Anderson!" Kenny laughed. "I was wondering when the old daring Sven would get fed up. I don't remember you backing off from much of anything."

"Billy was there then. I had a cushion."

"Stan told me this had something to do with Palmer so he's still there, Anderson. Do you have any suspects in this dastardly deed?"

"Oh, I know who's responsible, I can guarantee that."

"Well, there you go shit-head, what's your problem? I was thinking you were in the dark about who was doing this to you, and now you tell me that isn't true."

"No, no, I know who's responsible."

"Then let's figure out how to get them."

"You're offering your help."

"Hell yes, can't let people mess with my old friends without getting in it, can I?"

"Guess not."

"Sorry to hear about Billy, he was a good guy," Keaton stated, looking out the window, watching it get dark. "I could talk to him about what I was trying to do and he would understand the basics. He never called me a nut, like some others I knew."

"Sorry about that," Manny said, sheepishly.

"You didn't know what was possible then, not your fault," Keaton stated.

"You do any work on lasers?" Manny asked.

"Nah, to big, too bulky still. I'm doing independent electron beams."

"Got me there, I don't think I've even heard of them."

"Not much is said cause they're still fairly weak and short range, but there's some fantastic materials on the horizon, and the possibilities are limitless."

"Where the hell do you get the funds to do all this?"

"Let's just say that some of your tax dollars are coming my way."

"No shit! I have to say though, I'm surprised to see you're still alive," Manny commented with a chuckle. "After some of the hair brained shit you used to try."

"You mean like the power line fiasco?"

"That one stands out in my mind, yes."

"Whoa, my hair stood on end for a while, didn't it? Mandy still walks sideways by me."

"Mandy, you two still together?"

"Yup."

"You talked about having kids with her? How did you mange if she avoids contact?"

"She figures I'm safe when I'm lying down."

Keaton and Manny both broke out laughing

"These supposed bad guys went after Cassey," Keaton asked, "and you say they're still on your ass? Don't you worry about her?"

"She's with her parents."

"Batty Betty, is she still preaching the gospel?" Keaton asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's still around, what else would she be doing?"

"Not qualified for much else, but she must be doing something right," Kenny snickered. "I would have thought someone would have run her down long ago."

"Nah, doesn't work, she just gets back up."

"So you figure that God's prime agent is enough to keep your wife out of danger?"

"No. I hired some outside help." Manny shrugged. "Her parents have a live-in to help with Cassey's father. He's bed ridden these days, and the regular decided to take a vacation."

"He's a good guy, but how did you get a plant past, 'The Betty'?"

"She's a sweet, old, white haired lady."

"That's your idea of protection?"

"Geta Gogelbright, the sweet old lady—"

"Geta Gogel—" Keaton interrupted. "That's her real name?"

"I don't know! I was just told that she is an ex-operative for the Mossad. I've been assured that she can handle herself, and anyone else that might want to hurt Cassey. Two other gentlemen are also always close by."

"Christ, that must be expensive?"

"Oh, it is! And, I'm worried about the cops finding out. I haven't told anybody about this, and if it surfaces, it will just be more explaining to do. That's why you're right about me needing to do something. Don't get me wrong, I'd spend everything to protect Cassey, but I'd rather enjoy my money, rather than spend it like that."

"Have you met this Geta, whatever?"

"No, but my son who's a Special Forces dude is scared shitless of her."

"You need some power, Anderson, come across any lately?"

"I don't know what you're getting at?"

"Power, something to set you apart from the masses.

'You think I'm just part of the big stupid plan?"

"Sounds like it. You're the typical American success story. Take you out of your comfort zone and you flounder. Not sure of yourself if something unexpected comes your way. Got to change that if you're going to have a chance. Somebody is not playing by the rules you are accustomed to, and you're waiting, letting them make the moves."

"You're fucking with me too."

"No, I'm trying to make you think. That's your only other choice."

"What's the first choice, you left it out?"

"The cops. You tell me you're innocent, let them do your dirty work."

"Right now, I don't trust the system."

"Back to my option, huh?" Kenny said with a smirk on his face.

"Let's hear it," Manny surrendered

"Okay Anderson, this is what you need. First that phone."

"What good is the phone, it's rigged?"

"Manny, Manny, Manny, we add a little something. You leave it somewhere appropriate. They zero in on it, and instead of finding you there, they find something unexpected. Maybe arrows up their ass? You still good with the bow?"

"Whoa Keaton, that is very nasty, I'm shocked."

"Well, do you still shoot as good as I remember?"

"Probably better, but these guys have guns."

"Oh, I was just speculating, but just think of the shock value if you can get them into the right situation. Whoever is messing with your well-being could be surprised, no?"

"I don't know Kenny, I might be way out of their league."

"Even things up Manny! You had any inspirations lately, anything spooky you've come across."

"Oh that's what you meant? Ah, yeah, come to think of it, I had this old man show me something I didn't expect, or still can't explain."

"Didn't expect, or can't explain? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I think he might have been messing with me."

"Tell the story Manny."

"He made me see things."

"Was it him, or you."

"Oh no, it was me, I was there all right."

"Shit Manny, you're scaring me."

"You take on an eighteen thousand volt transmission line, and now you're afraid of a vision I had."

"Just a vision?"

"I had an experience with a game somebody talked about too, but I did that on my own. But the vision seemed to be in a different time."

"A different time, explain?"

"I think I saw something that happened long ago?"

"How can you be sure?"

"The people I saw have been dead for quite a while."

"This old guy opened something for you," Keaton stated.

"Huh?"

"Maybe he opened some sort of portal, a gateway or something."

"Oh come on Kenny, I don't believe in that sort of thing."

"Guess you were dreaming or something, or your mind made it up."

"No, I was definitely there, and I was awake."

"Then something happened."

Manny was silent, thinking. "Yeah, something happened," he said after a minute. "Can you get me a compound bow?"

"I can get you anything you want Manny."

Chapter 38

Manny felt comfortable on the road again, he and the car were becoming one. Keaton's device had warned him more than once to the radar the cops were using, well in advanced to any problems. He was heading south, to the spot he had discovered on his trip back from seeing Walsh The place he stopped at in Georgia and fantasied about making a stand. He didn't really have a plan and he wasn't sure he could go through with anything, but the feeling of doing something was lifting his spirits.

As he drove farther south the weather deteriorated and he crossed into Georgia with the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth. Just as it was getting dark he stopped in a little town close his destination. The rain had stopped, but was replaced by damp low clouds.

He rented a motel room on the main highway, requesting one that was around the back. He unlocked the door to the room, went inside, put the cell phone on the bed and went back out. Staying behind the motel, Manny walked to a small park he had spotted coming into town. He sat down against a tree back out of the light and started to eat a sandwich he had bought the last time he had filled the car with gas. A full moon was rising above the trees, but the cloud layer stole any light it would have contributed, leaving only a big white ball. The temperature was very comfortable.

Within the time it took him to eat half the sandwich, he spotted the big black sedan drive by the motel up the street. It continued toward where Manny was hidden and passed by. There were two figures in the car, and Manny was positive that the passenger was Mark Tainer. The vehicle cruised by without slowing down and headed toward the edge of the town.

Manny watched the vehicle until it was out of town and made his dash back to the room. He raced inside, grabbed the phone and ran out to the Corvette.

*

Manny gunned the car out of the motel parking lot, spinning the rear wheels easily on the cold pavement causing the car to fishtail, the engine winding up furiously. Manny shifted it hard, exiting the edge of the small town in a power slide.

*

The road to the lake was a winding one, but Manny could remember, It is fairly wide and the surface is good.

*

Slow it down fool! He begged himself as he came to the first tight turn, down shifting precisely, playing the brakes just right, the car diving down into the corner.

"Hot damn!" Manny shouted, putting his foot into the throttle, the car blasting forward. Manny shifted quickly, gobbling up the distance to the next corner, a longer gentler one. Manny took this corner a little safer, but when he looked down quickly at the speedometer, he was shocked to see it reading one hundred and fifteen.

I guess a ticket won't make my day any worse, Manny rationalized.

There were a total of fourteen more turns to the spot he was headed and Manny pushed the car hard.

What am I afraid of more, this road, or the men coming for me?

*

Manny flashed by the spot he was looking for, the car in a full drift, the rear sliding out farther than the front. He jammed the brakes, the tires squawking as the car decelerated. Manny spun the wheel sharply, and the Corvette pirouetting in the middle of the road.

What the hell was that all about?

Manny was sitting in the middle of the road, tire smoke hanging around the car like a small, phantom fog bank.

Am I glad I made it, or did I 'want' to crash, so it wouldn't come to this?

Manny sat there watching the smoke dissipate.

I can stay and make a stand, get this over with, or I can keep on driving, think of something else.

Manny put the car in gear and started slowly back up the road.

If I just drive away, it will come to this again, I know it will.

Manny drove up to the spot.

"It won't end until I do something about it," he said quietly to himself.

He pulling off the road, parking the Vet as far off the pavement as possible. It was out of view unless somebody looked hard. The clouds had thickened, leaving the florescent globe of the moon barely discernible.

He clicked on the phone and tried to dial his home number, but the phone wouldn't pick up a signal, just like Keaton had told him. He speed dialed Tainer's cell number and the signal came back immediately. Manny only got the request to leave a message.

"Hey Tainer, got Bat there with you, huh?" Was his message.

Manny put the phone back down and waited.

The phone rang within a minute. Manny picked it up, pressed talk, and put it up to his ear. No one spoke, but Manny knew he had an open line.

"Come on Tainer, I saw Bat back at the gas station, yesterday, in the big black car. You guys operate well, that car must have cost more than the rocket I'm driving. Bat O'Brien is not in Vietnam anymore, is he Tainer? He made it back, right? You should pick your accomplishes better, or not give such a good description. He sure is an ugly little fucker. I know he's there with you now? I know because I saw you and Bat go by the motel a bit ago."

Still no answer

"He's the one that tried to get to Cassey. How did he manage to get lucky with George? That dog probably weighed as much as he does, if you described him right and I think you did, according to Cassey. And, how come he missed me? Did I slip just at the right time, or was he still hurting from the beating George gave him?"

Still no answer

"Come on Tainer. I know it's you on the line."

"Yes, Manny, I'm on the line, and he's right here," Tainer finally answered. Manny could detect a little hesitation in his voice. "That was poor judgment, though, calling him ugly. He informs me that he will now do his job with extreme prejudice. I assume he means that he will not be kind."

"You mean you were going to kill me kindly, and now that I've objected, you will do me mean spirited? I'm curious though? Now that we're into the explanation stage, just what have I done to justify my murder in the first place?"

Again there was no response.

"Come on Tainer, give me your version of the justification for this. I know Bat just likes to hurt people. By the way, Bat, you listening? My wife has left me because of you, and the quickest way to regain her admiration would be to even the score about George. Not that I might get some pleasure from it myself because I loved that big old hound too."

Tainer didn't respond.

"Come on 'girls', talk to me," Manny taunted. "You're the assholes that are ruining my way of life. I figured it out, and now you don't want to participate. You certainly are a couple of pricks in my book."

"Billy was a man, you're not," Tainer finally responded angrily. "I want his life's story."

"Don't bullshit me Tainer, you're not interested in Billy's life story, you're interested in Timtown. You can tell the Vietnam story in your own words, you were there. You want his writing. All this is nothing but deflection. I read Timtown, Cassey kept a copy, and I read it. It's a terrific story. You want to steal it to call it your own."

"Where do you go from here?" Tainer asked.

"Are you talking about bargaining with me?"

"No, Manny, you have nothing to bargain with, and you are not a brave man.

"So you expect me to do nothing, is that what you're hoping?"

"There's nothing you can do. You have nowhere to go, Manny, so I guess all this supposition is good for the soul. I talked to the police guy, Swenson, yesterday and he is pissed about you running. He thinks he screwed up and let you get away. So he is hunting you at this moment, but don't worry, I'm not the kind of guy that would tell on you."

The connection went dead, cut from the other end.

Manny put the phone down on the passenger's seat, certain that Mark Tainer was not interested in talking to him any farther. The phone's physiological use was gone, for now.

Manny waited, and a couple of minutes later he saw headlights coming up the road. His first feeling was fear.

I can back the Vet out on the road and be gone before they get to me, or I can stay and try to fight.

Manny feels for the large canvas bag on the rear deck, behind the seats. He pulls the bag over the passenger seat and it flops down beside him. The headlights are maybe a couple of minutes away, as Manny looks intently at the bag. He watches the approaching headlights some more.

This is the only way I'll ever get my whole life back. Even if the truth gets told, the truth will still be that I jeopardized Cassey's life, foolishly. Both of us will always have that hanging over us. I need to finish this now.

Manny grabbed the cell phone, the bag, and opened the car door. It was pitch black outside because the clouds had thickened and the moon was gone. He walked to the edge of the road, snapped on the small pen light he had, and stepped into the underbrush at the same spot as two weeks before. He was fifty feet into the thick growth, moving down the same narrow game trail when he heard a car approaching on the road above. He heard Bat and Tainer's car skidding to a stop in the gravel. Two doors opened, as Manny reached the bottom of the slope. He started up the hill, the sound of the trunk being slammed hurrying him on. He used the pen light intermittently and only down at the ground.

"Manny, you fool!" Tainer yelled from the road. "You're making this too easy. I knew you'd panic! I knew you'd be no match for us. But for god's sake Anderson, why out here, why make it so easy? You can run as fast as you like, go ahead and run, Manny, you can run, and run, and run, but there is no place to go."

Manny could hear muffled voices from the road as he found the rock cap and turned left, still going up. Manny located the small protected place from the first trip, sat down, took the cell phone and dialed Tainer's number.

"Hello Manny," Tainer answered immediately.

"Leave me alone, Tainer," Manny used a pleading tone. "They're going to know it was you."

"Anderson, no one is going to think anything close," Tainer laughed into the phone. "You see, you're guilty in everyone's eyes, and you're on the edge of losing it. They won't be surprised that you had to end it all, they'll expect it. They don't even know I'm here. Besides I'm covered Manny, no one will ever find your body. Manny Anderson is just going to disappear off the face of the planet. I'm going to do you, and no one will ever know the truth."

Back up toward the road, Manny could see a light, barely showing through the heavy vegetation. It was making its way down.

"Aren't these things wonderful?" Tainer continued. "I mean the cell phones. You and I can talk, carry on a conversation while I hunt you down. Shit, in Vietnam we couldn't even carry radios, to heavy, lousy batteries.

Manny could hear Tainer and Bat struggling through the thick growth, they hadn't found the game trail in their over confidence.

"Just think Manny, Billy and I went into the teeth of the dragon, hoping like hell we didn't need any help because there was none. We couldn't make a call if our life depended on it. Back then we didn't have something like a cell phone to call for the cavalry. Damn smart of me to switch yours, huh? Geez, I just amaze myself sometimes."

Manny quickly opened the bag and withdrew the compound bow and a large quiver of arrows Kenny had gotten him. He sat back against the rocks and took many deep breaths, trying to calm himself, looking for the confidence he knew he would need.

"You got yourself into this, sport, and now there is just one way out. Why have you done this to yourself? Why and hell do something so fuckin dumb.

Tainer is probably right. I've backed myself into a corner, and now there is only one way out.

"Can you believe it Manny," Tainer started the taunts again. "Who'd think you'd end up in a pickle like you're in."

Manny saw the light at the bottom of the rock slide, and could make out two individuals down there, looking around, trying to figure which way he had gone.

Crazy mothers. Shit if I had a rifle, I could at least nail one of them. Why am I up here with just my bow?

Tainer and Bat just stood at the bottom of the slide a hundred and fifty yards away, moving the light back and forth, uncertain what to do.

"Who, in this day and age," Tainer continued, "could imagine having their worst nightmare hot on their heels, and their fuckin cell phone is no good. Got to put that in my book, the one I write after Timtown hits the shelves."

"Timtown, what a goddamn gold mine, and it fell right into my lap. Billy would have wanted me to have it, you know. I was his friend, not you Manny. Not your sweet assed wife either. Me, Manny, me, cause I was the one that was with Billy when he developed into the kind of man that was capable of writing that classic. I covered his ass when he had the talent forming in his brain."

Bat was holding something in his one hand and pointing up toward Manny's position with the other.

"You had nothing to do with the Billy the writer," Tainer said as he looked in the direction Bat was pointing. "You and your turd friends didn't appreciate him or the person he became. You denied him the basic rights he deserved, the simple act of respect, the common decency to listen to what he had to say. He came to you, asked you to listen to him, to help him with that book, his dream. That's what that story was you know, his dream, his ticket to the life you all got, the one he worked for and never achieved. It's your fault Manny, you killed Billy, and now I'm going to kill you."

Tainer and Bat spread out, circling the outcrop, angling up toward him. Manny watched patiently as the two men climbed toward him. Manny selected an arrow and notched it into the bow.

I'm going up against professionals here. These fuckers are killers, and I've got to do this now and do it right.

Manny took a few more moments breathing deeply, getting the oxygen, letting the tension flow out, getting settled for what was going to be a defining moment, or the end of his life.

Tainer had move to within seventy yards, shinning the light around, but not spotting Manny yet.

Manny took a couple of more deep breaths and pulled the bow up. He drew the arrow back, holding the tension, steadying himself, aiming. Manny had the bow drawn all the way back, taking careful aim.

Make this count dammit. And he let the arrow fly. The bow gave a sharp twang, and the arrow sped on its way. A second later, there is a loud shattering of glass and the light was gone.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Tainer screamed, the destroyed light bouncing on the rocks. "What the fuck was that?"

"Mark!" Bat yelled back, as Manny could hear the two men scrambling on the rocks down below. "I think that crazy son-of-a-gun has a bow!

"Which way did it come from?" Tainer asked in a quieter voice.

"How should I know?" Bat responded. "You had the light . . . It's really dark out here."

"Oh great," Tainer snarled, "fuckin afraid of the dark."

"Up your's Tainer! I'm not an owl. How did that dip weed get that lucky?"

"Shit, I don't know, but let's get this thing done, and keep your voice down, you're supposed to be a professional for christ sakes."

"I don't even know which way he is," Bat whispered. "That guy's screwed when I find him though. Let's spread out, he's got to be close."

Manny could hear the men talking, but it was difficult to hear exactly what they were saying, but he can tell they aren't too happy with the situation.

Manny waited, quietly, listening for a sound to give him another target.

I hear you. Manny let another arrow fly, directed toward the sound of somebody stepping on a twig.

"Gosh dangit!" Bat shouted.

"What the hell's your problem?" Tainer hissed.

"He shot at me. Didn't you hear it?" Bat said, running toward Tainer.

"Yeah, I think so, you okay?"

"Yeah, darn near got me, though." Bat was breathing hard. "Went right passed my ear."

"Well, shut the fuck up," Tainer whispered. "He's shooting at the sounds, you dumb prick."

"Great, we got Robin Hood Two-Thousand out here," Bat whispered back. "What the heck are we going to do without a light, huh, you answer me that one? What if he's got one of them night seeing things?"

"We'll wait him out, he can't get far, and when it gets light—"

"Are you nuts?" Bat whined. "That's hours from now. We'll freeze to death out here."

"What the hell is wrong with you? I can remember when nothing bothered you."

"Yeah, well, I went to work in the cities where it's a little more comfortable, and I got spoiled."

"Christ, I'm glad Palmer is not around to hear that, he'd be so disappointed."

"Fuck you."

"Bat, I thought profanity was against your grain."

"Yeah, well I'm really mad."

"You going to belly ache, or get the job done? I paid you good money."

"Not enough Tainer. I almost got eaten by a dog, big as a car. Now we're stumbling around in the dark, with a Suit flicking arrows our way. This wasn't planned very good Mark"

Tainer started to stumble on one of the rocks, the noise alerting Manny to his location.

Manny let loose with another arrow.

"Shit!" Tainer exclaimed, his voice following a loud thunk.

"I heard it," Bat shouted. "I heard where it came from. Up there, up to the left, I think he's up in the rocks. Did he come close?"

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Tainer exclaimed, the sound of tumbling rocks marking his retreat.

Manny stuck to his ground as he heard the two men moving back up the game trail toward the road.

"Shit, they're going back to the road, what the hell do I do now?" Manny mumbled under his breath. "They can just wait there for me, really smart Anderson.

Manny heard the trunk of the car open, and then a few moments later another light flicked on.

*

"How close did he come?" Bat asked, shining the light back into the trees, toward where they retreated from.

"Close enough, I've got an arrow stuck in my back pack," Tainer answered, breathing hard.

"He sure is a lucky guy," Bat said.

"He's not lucky, you dumb ass," Tainer growled. "That's why he brought us here, you twit!" Tainer explained. "Remember Palmer telling us about that friend of his that was phenomenal with a bow?"

"Oh yeah, I think I remember that?"

"Well, shit for brains, guess who's out there?" Tainer squawked.

"Nah, he can't be that dumb. There's two of us with guns, nah, can't be."

"I'm not saying he's too smart, Bat, but he's challenging us. We fucked up his life, good, and now he thinks he's going to get even."

"Geez, dumb smuck's got guts, maybe we should just forget this?"

"Not hardly, you're in this to the end now."

"Tainer, don't tell me what to do, I don't like that."

"I don't give a rats ass what you like or don't like."

"Fuck you Tainer!" Bat moved toward the car, a defiant look on his face. "Nobody tells me what to do."

"You'll do what I tell you, or else."

"Or else what?"

"That time with the two little girls."

"Nobody's going to believe you."

"You're a goddamn deserter, Bat. Don't you think the military would be real interested in finding your ass. They get their hands on you and then check you out, and they find that most of the time you weren't out hunting Viet Cong, you were out raping poor little village girls."

"No one cared back there," Bat stated.

"Don't try to bullshit me, Bat, you were damn glad Billy never found out about your dirty little secret. He would have killed you on the spot, and you knew it."

"Pure white Billy Palmer, bunch of crud."

"Regardless, we have a job to do."

"Stumbling around in the dark, trying to find Super Suit; thinks he's William Tell?"

"Yeah, well, that might be my fault," Tainer laughed. "I guess I should have gone easier on him with all the rhetoric."

"What you talking about?"

"I was kind of belittling him with all the Nam stories. I guess the poor sap took me serious and is trying to prove himself. You still have the locater right."

"Yeah."

"Well, give it to me. That stupid shit's still got the phone. I don't feel like spending any more time out here either."

"I don't like being out all night either, let's go," Bat said, starting back into the underbrush.

"Hold your horses Bat, let's have some fun, first," Tainer said, grabbing Bat by the belt, stopping him.

"Fun's killing him."

"Geez, you're sure consistent," Tainer said to Bat, then stepped back and shouted from the road into the woods.

"So you're the Bowman!" Tainer waited a moment. "Billy told me about you, but he never gave me a name. Just said he knew a guy that could hit anything with a bow. I never made the connection, Manny, but you can't hit what you can't see."

Manny shouted back. "Didn't Billy tell you what the Bowman's specialty was?" Manny noted the hesitation, the time Tainer was taking, thinking over the answer. It was the defining moment.

"No, he never mentioned it," Tainer hollered moments later.

"Bullshit Tainer, I think you're lying. I think you know what I can do. I went to the doctor, Mark, for a checkup recently. Mark, I had my hearing and night vision checked. They're both great for a man my age, especially my hearing, aaannd, I think you can put two and two together. I have an advantage over you now. You confessed to me that you wouldn't last a day in this kind of environment. Tainer, it's true what Billy told you about me. The Bowman can hit a very small target in the dark. I've kept up with it Mark. All these years, it's my forte."

"Hey, I like this psychological bullshit. Bat and I never got to play mind games with the quarry before. This has an interesting twist, don't you think so Bat?

"I like it too," Bat shouted.

"Manny," Tainer yelled again. "Boy, you know, you're something, risking your neck like this just to prove you're a man. I got to give you credit Manny, you're not the pricy milk toast I figured you to be. My hat is off to you. Too bad it's Bat I'm sending after you. If it was anyone else, you might have a chance."

"Bat got beat up by my dog, and already missed me once," Manny laughed loudly.

Tainer was silent, waiting for Manny to respond again, but Manny was done talking, it was time to move. He left the cell phone behind.

"I guess you don't have anything to say, out there all alone, with Bat and me coming to get you. I don't blame you Manny, you did a real stupid thing and now you're going to pay." Tainer gave Bat a nod, and the two men reentered the heavy undergrowth.

Manny was moving, trying to find his next position. He traversed across the hill slowly. It was incredibly dark, the thick clouds still covering the moon. He used the pen light sparingly and was very conscious of the track he was taking, keeping the last location firmly in his mind, because it's where the rigged cell phone is.

Think, Manny, think, the one that does the best wins, and I can't afford to lose this one. Come to me Wendell, you got me into this, now don't let me down.

Manny moved down slightly, and then back up into another clump of boulders. He moved around them slightly and stopped. He could barely make out some shapes seventy-five feet away—the rocks he had come from.

Manny settled down to wait.

Manny crouched, listening intently, hopping for a sound to tell him where Tainer and Bat were, sniffing the air soundlessly, carefully, waiting for a clue. The smells and sounds of the night were all around him. He could hear the chirping of an insect close on his right, down on the ground fifteen feet away. He could smell the damp, decaying vegetation, the pungent smell of an over ripened fruit or flower. Something scampered through the leaves going across his front. It sounded small and in a hurry, moving away. A quiet hooting sound came from behind him, but he could tell it was in a tree, high up, so no danger to him.

Patience, Manny, patience. In the far reaches of his mind Manny heard a voice, he's not sure if it is his own consciousness, or encouragement from elsewhere. Wait for them Manny, wait. They don't know what you're up to Manny. They're hoping you're scared and unprepared."

Manny sat very still, waiting for the first clue. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the tree he was waiting under.

What's that smell, it sure doesn't belong here? I've smelled that before, but where?

Manny lifted his head, raising his chin to get his nose up into the air, but nothing registers, the slight breeze was gone as fast as it appeared.

The air moves again, and the faint smell is back. Manny sniffed, analyzing the smell.

Aftershave. That stupid Tainer, that's the scent he uses.

Manny moved his head around.

What direction is the breeze coming from? . . . Come on, a little harder. . . . Come on, give me a clue. . . . Damn, quit again.

Moments passed.

There it is, and it's coming from across the hill. Gotcha Tainer, you bugger. Dumb fuck went for the cell phone."

In the distance, Manny can hear a car coming down the mountain road, still a couple of miles away.

God-damnit, pay attention, don't let your mind wander like that," Manny scolded himself. I'm not in a position to make any mistakes.

He heard a twig snap across on the other slope, right where he suspected his target to be. He focused his senses to the direction and waited.

The car coming down the road drove around a corner and for a moment the headlights point to where the hunt is taking shape. In the brief second the lights are just right, and they splash intermittent light through all the foliage. For the briefest of moments, a man's vague outline is there, fifty feet away.

Gotcha. It is quickly dark again, but it is enough for Manny to register a target. He drew the bow back and steadied his aim, waiting for something to give him the exact spot.

I've shot at three deer, but never hit one. I think I didn't want to kill them, and subconsciously missed. I wonder if I will be able to do this?"

It was a couple of seconds before Manny heard a foot go down on some leaves.

Manny registered the exact spot in his mind, raised his aim three feet and quickly fired an arrow, but he was careless because the arrow went through the leaves of a tree ten feet away spoiling the shot and making noise, giving away his location. A burst of automatic rifle fire from the left caught Manny by surprise. Bullets smacked all around him, shredding the leaves and sending chips of rock flying. As he dropped like a stone to the ground, Manny felt a sharp pain in his side. He rolled up tight to the rocks.

Oh shit, they got me.

He put his hand to his side and felt blood.

Oh shit, I wonder how bad this is?

Manny flexed his arm and shoulder, then his side. A stinging pain registers, but nothing unbearable.

Oh man, where the hell did he come from? Oh shit, surprise, I'm in a world of hurt. Dammit, I've really done it, what do I do now?

Manny could feel what must be panic coming on. The need to run, to flee, to find safety, anywhere, anyhow.

Get a hold of yourself.

Manny can feel something else.

I'm not giving up.

Then he starts to feel anger.

Not now. Not after I've been wronged. I want to get even. I want to punish whoever is coming to get me, coming to spoil my life, take away my privilege to live. Assholes.

Manny could hear someone walking across the slope, heading right for him.

You want me?

Manny notched another arrow and raised up to his knees, ignoring the pain in his side.

Okay people, you might get me, but you are going to pay dearly. And he let loose with the bolt.

A scream of pain and surprise pierces the night.

Whoever is hit, retreated down the hit, cursing loudly.

"Bat!" Tainer yelled from down the hill. "That fucker just shot me! Kill him! Kill him now, and do it mean!"

"I think I might have got him!" Bat shouted from the location the automatic rifle fired.

"Like hell you did, you moronic elf! He just nailed me with another fuckin arrow! Kill him now!"

"Golly Tainer, that boy is pretty good with that thing. I don't know?"

Manny fired an arrow at the sound of Bat's voice, but the arrow struck rock. Bat was respecting Manny's prowess by hiding behind the rocks.

Manny could hear Bat on the other side of the rocks, maybe sixty feet away.

"Hey Anderson!" Bat called. "I hit you, I know I did."

Manny said nothing, thinking furiously. Shit, I'm screwed. He can come around the rocks from either side, and I can't do a thing about it."

"Come on mister, give it up," Bat called, trying to sound sympathetic. "I won't hurt you, I promise. If I have got to come and get you, I'm going to have to kill you though."

Manny leaned back against the rocks.

"Hey Mister," Bat called again.

Got to do something, got to do something. Come on, come on. Can't let it end here, not like this. Manny pushed away from the rocks and listened carefully.

"Your times up," Bat called out.

A sudden shift in the heavy clouds overhead allowed a dim outline of the moon to appear. It was just a faint light coming from above, but it seemed to bath the area where Bat was hiding, with an eerie glow. There was a cone of light, dim at the outer edges, brighter in toward the middle. Manny is transfixed by the strange occurrence.

Opened something, Kenny's voice comes to Manny.

"Hey Bat," Manny called out. "What kind of deal can we make? I've got a lot more money than Tainer.

"We can talk, sure," Bat's voice was illuminated in Manny's mind.

You can feel him, you know where he is. It was the voice of Wendell Guterraz.

"Come on out," Manny said.

"I don't want to get stuck with no arrow," Bat laughed.

All of Manny's senses zeroed in on Bat. The darkness, the rocks, the trees, anything that stands between the two men, dissolves.

Manny looked up, raising the bow with an arrow notched, concentrating intensely, the flight path of the arrow outlined in his mind as he stood.

"Throw out the bow!" Bat commanded.

This declaration from Bat gave Manny the range and he fired the arrow straight into the air. Manny quickly notched another arrow, and let it fly, then a third arrow went, arching high into the night sky.

Looking up, Manny projected his thoughts to the first arrow as it reached the top of its arch and tipped over, gaining speed, plummeting down.

Going down. Manny knew he had connection with the arrow, he could feel it, as the arrow accelerated, closing in on the unsuspecting Bat.

"Bang," Manny whispered as he heard a plunk and a loud hiccup. Moments later, he heard a clank, as an arrow hit a rock, then shortly, followed by another plunk.

Manny waited, but he couldn't hear anything but the night sounds. Finally, the pain in his side made him restless and he couldn't wait any longer. He started slowly, sneaking around the outcrop of rock, another arrow notched in the bow. He got to the end of the rocks, stopped and listened. There was still nothing but the natural sounds. He moved slightly away from the rocks and looked intently to where he knew Bat was located last, but there is nothing out of the ordinary.

As he focused his eyes, he spotted something. It looked like the feather end of an arrow sticking straight up, just behind one of the boulders. Manny moved cautiously, keeping the unmoving arrow in sight, the bow aimed out in front of him. He snuck up to the other side of the rock, steadied himself on the surface, raised up and peered over slowly, following the shaft of the arrow down with his eyes. The arrow seemed to be lodged in something hairy. Manny stood up, suddenly realizing what he was looking at. Bat, the arrow sticking out of the top of his head, was wedged between two rocks, caught under his arm pits. Manny walked up to Bat, noticing another arrow protruding from his back and Bat's Ak47 assault rifle laying in the dirt. Manny's attention was redirected to the road by a car coming up it. He could see the lights through the trees.

"Bat!" Tainer yelled from close to the road. "Come on, quit screwing around and shoot the bastard, someone's coming."

Manny quickly turned, pulled the bow back and waited.

"Hey Bat!" Tainer yelled again.

Manny fired at the voice, sending the arrow arching up at a steep angle.

"Let's get this over," Tainer was shouting, as Manny waited, counting out the seconds to when he judged the should arrive.

"Now," Manny whispered again, as there was the sound of an arrow slicing down through foliage.

Then there was a shout in the night. "God-dammit!" from Tainer.

Manny fired another arrow and started toward Tainer's voice. Manny notched another arrow, as the car on the road got closer.

"What the hell?" Tainer yelled again.

Manny was almost to the bottom of the slope when heard this. He pulled the bow back and fired another arrow, this time at a shallow angle, listening to the arrow slicing through the underbrush. He could hear Tainer scrambling through the thick underbrush as he reached the bottom of the slope. Manny shot another arrow and a yelp came from Tainer. Manny started up the slope toward the road, firing arrows at the sounds Tainer was making in his panicked flight.

"Jesus christ Anderson, you're nuts!" Tainer screamed. "Leave me alone!"

Manny loosed another arrow, shooting high, the arrow thwacking into a tree, somewhere above Tainer's head.

Tainer panicked, screaming incoherently,

"Iiyyyeeee, help me, help me please! This fucker is nuts!" Tainer screamed, crashing through the brush, trying desperately to break free, to get to the road, to get to the car lights above.

Manny heard the car come up fast, the tires squealing on the blacktop, then the car stopping hard into the gravel shoulder. Doors opened, and he could hear Tainer. "Oh, thank god, thank you, thank you. There's a crazy man down there. He's trying to kill me with a bow."

Manny stopped, not sure what to do, wondering how much trouble he had gotten himself in now.

"Manny Anderson!" A deep strong voice called from the road. "This is the Sheriff, put down your—"

Manny could hear the strong voice asking a question.

"What, he's after you with 'what'?" The deep voice sounded mystified.

"Really, that's a nasty looking gun you have there, Sir." Manny could hear the man with the strong voice clearly, "and you're running from a guy with a bow?"

Manny could hear some more unrecognizable blathering. Then the strong voice. "Yes, don't worry, Sir, we won't let him shoot at you anymore."

"Manny Anderson," the deep voice commanded, "drop your bow and arrows, and come on up here, now!" Manny could detect a chuckle.

Manny followed the game trail back up to the road, a couple of lights spotted him as he made his way. He had put the bow down, and was using both hands to part the thick vegetation. He stepped onto the road, lights blaring in his eyes. "How do you know my name?"

"I followed your sorry ass all the way from Minnesota, you friggin idiot," Detective Swenson announced.

"Oh, shit, not you," Manny said with disgust.

"Not happy to see me?" Swenson said, lowering his light out of Manny's eyes. "Am I interfering with something?" Swenson continued, walking up to Manny. "You've got yourself in some deep shit now, turn around." Swenson had handcuffs.

"Now, let's not be hasty," the deep voice said. A huge, black, sheriff walked up. "Am I to understand that this gentleman," the sheriff pointed at Manny," was being pursued by those two other gentleman, and seems to have won the game?"

"It's my case, I'll handle it Dillard," Swenson said condescendingly.

"This is my jurisdiction Shorty, and I don't particularly care for you," Sheriff Dillard said to Swenson.

"Now just a min—" Swenson tried to object, but Dillard cut him off.

"Sir," Sheriff Dillard said to Manny, "would you please come with me."

*

Manny walked up to the sheriff's car, where Mark Tainer was in the back seat, leaning forward, handcuffed, a bloody rag wrapped around his lower arm. Manny leaned into the window.

"You fucker Tainer, I actually wanted to kill you, and then I remembered the spiel you gave me. How you're the one that deserves to benefit from Timtown. How I was such an asshole and didn't deserve to live because I didn't listen to Billy's dream. You accused me of being responsible for his death.

"That's right Manny, I still think I'm correct," Tainer said.

"You are, that's why you're such a fucker," Manny said, straightening up. "By the way, I know this great lawyer, and like a detective once told me, 'You didn't kill anybody, so it shouldn't go too bad for you.'"

Chapter 39

Manny was just starting to doze off in the cell he'd been put in when a deputy walked up to the bars and informed him he had a phone call.

"Who is it?" Manny asked, not even raising his head from the plain, hard, skinny pillow, with no pillow case.

"He says he's your attorney, a Carl something."

"Tell him to call back in the morning," Manny said, his head still on the pillow.

"Ah, I'd appreciate if you would take his this call," the deputy said nervously.

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to try to escape, or something?"

"Don't talk like that, please."

"Didn't they tell you how deranged I am?"

"Sir, I was instructed to get you what you need, and no one thinks you're dangerous, not here anyway."

Manny got up with a sigh, as the deputy opened the cell door. The deputy directed Manny down to an office, pointed the way in, and then shut the door behind Manny.

"Hey, Carl, guess where I am?" Manny said into the phone.

"I heard, Swenson called me. I'm on my way. They're waking up a judge to set bail, and we'll have you out in a couple of hours."

"Oh, chill out, Andrews. I've had a long day, and the bunk in here isn't too bad. I plan on sleeping quite a bit, so don't bother me until tomorrow."

"But, Manny, you're in jail."

"Big deal, I've had it worse today, believe me."

"You are one crazy bugger, that's for sure."

"Good night Carl," Manny said, hanging up the phone.

*

Around noon the next day, Carl and Jason McDermott were in Sheriff Dillard's office when they brought Manny in.

"Where's Swenson?" Manny asked.

"He's not welcome here," Sheriff Dillard remarked, handing Manny a newspaper, the headlines showing. "Minnesota Man in Custody. Arrested after shoot out near Lake Black Shear." The following article read, "Sheriff Dillard says the Minnesota gentleman, a Manny Anderson of Red Pine, was being pursued by two other men from New York that were trying to kill him. Mr. Anderson, armed with only a compound bow, was able to kill one of his pursuers and disable the other. It is unconfirmed, but according to the Sheriff's Office in Red Pine, the two New York men were Vietnam era Marine Snipers. Story page 1b.

*

"How did Swenson get down here?" Manny asked Carl.

"It seems the New York police were very interested in Mark Tainer's associate, the one you proinged with the arrows. They had been following him, a one Bat O'Brien, for six months. They though he might be working for Tainer, and Swenson was let in on it when you made your mad dash. The police had a GPS in Tainer's car, and Tainer and Bat had a tail on you the whole time, but it got a little hectic with you and that silly car Stan gave you."

"Oh, man, I do love that car." Manny smiled. "So what's the official line, what happens to me?"

"The official report will read that you acted in self-defense," Dillard said. "As far as we're concerned, you're free to go, but, if you ever go through here again, and I catch you driving like that, again, I will throw the book at you."

*

Manny requested to see Tainer before he left.

"Come to gloat," Tainer said, sitting on his bunk in the cell. Manny was standing outside the bars, looking in.

"No, came to talk," Manny said.

"I tried to kill you," Tainer said matter of factually.

"It didn't work."

"Sounds like gloating to me.

"Probably, but I still want to talk. I'm still interested in Billy and you."

"Ah, what makes me tick?"

"No, why you tick that way."

"'Fair enough.' I hate you Manny Anderson. I hate you for becoming Billy's advocate, way too late, I might add."

"I could say better late than never, but I think I understand."

"Try me," Tainer said.

"Billy needed me, a long, long time ago, and I wasn't there," Manny said, sadness in his voice.

"Anderson, you do amaze me, but I still want you dead."

"It ain't gonna happen, not by your hand anyway," Manny snickered.

"You're gloating again," Tainer growled.

"I get to go home," Manny said, pointing at Tainer, "and you are headed to deep shit, but I still want to talk."

Tainer sat thinking for a moment, then spoke. "What do you want?"

"I got Bill's story from you, what about yours?"

"You writing a book Anderson?"

"Maybe!"

"And you want what from me?"

"The truth."

"You missed knowing 'Billy the Marine' and now you think you can figure me out," Tainer laughed.

"Maybe."

"Manny Anderson, you want to know why I'm the way I am?"

"Yes," Manny said without hesitation.

Tainer sat thinking again, finally taking a deep breath. "I was disfigured by war," he said and stopped.

"That's a start," Manny commented.

"I never told you about the dogs," Tainer said, a faraway look on his face.

Manny sat waiting.

"Those beautiful dogs," Tainer said quietly. "They were dedicated to us. They were smart enough to realize the danger and how extreme the situation could become. They adored their handlers and would give it all."

Manny could tell Tainer was getting angry. "When the handlers rotated back to the world, the dogs were not allowed to leave Vietnam and were given to the South Vietnamese Army who had them for lunch!" Tainer spat it out venomously.

"Of all the jack ass stupidity involved in that fiasco, to me that was the defining action. How some moron in the rear could justify leaving our soldiers behind, and that's what they were, soldiers. They were part of the team, and gave their all," Tainer exclaimed.

Manny saw a look of hatred on Mark's face. "I've never talked about this Manny, not to anyone before. I've never talked about it until now." Tainer twisted his head around, trying to loosen his tense neck. Tainer sat thinking, then said softly. "A man that goes to war, never comes back the same."

"How could he?" Manny said.

"We found five marines one time," Tainer said in the same soft voice. "I guess a patrol got lost and was overwhelmed. They were badly decomposed, stinking, bones showing through the rot in places, but we could tell that they had been castrated and their genitals were in their mouths. I only hoped that this had been done after they were dead, but I doubt it. The enemy had a pretense for extreme cruelty. As bad as it got, we tried to refrain from becoming his equal. In my mind, it was what separated us from the other side. We were all in that filthy, stinking environment, but we were better, we still had a limit to what we were capable of.

"And the kids," Tainer added. "I have to say that regardless of how bad the situation, our troops still had a heart for the children. Men, or rather boys that had been confronted with the most intense combat, still remembered that kids are kids, and tried to refrain from any retribution toward them. The other side, their own people, were vicious and absolute about their goals, and never hesitated to abuse anyone that didn't go along with their policies."

"What do you think made the difference?" Manny asked.

"I think it's that freedom of expression that we take for granted. In a society that is totalitarian, orders are orders, and there is no pretense to question anything. They spend their whole life taking orders, and that is that. Individual rights and thoughts are not part of the equation."

"Yeah, I learned all about possibly losing my rights out there in the woods with you and Bat after my ass."

"So what got your balls in a twist?"

"I was pissed because you were fucking with my great life."

"If you had nothing to miss, how do you think you would have responded?"

"I don't know, I've never been in that situation."

"Did you think about Billy?"

"Yes, I never thought about his experiences having anything to offer to me, until I needed courage," Manny said, turning to leave.

Chapter 40

"I don't get you Manny," Cassey said, sitting in the passenger's side of the Vet. They had decided to take a drive down the road where Cassey had been assaulted. "To get their life back," Cassey had said.

"After all the trouble that guy caused, you don't hold a grudge. He's nothing but a wicked killer in my book," Cassey stated, looking out her window, watching the trees go by.

"He's a bad guy, no doubt," Manny agreed, "and he was motivated by greed, yes, but not totally." Manny looked at Cassey. "Part of him tried to kill out of comradely for Billy. We became the enemy because we were about to reap the benefits of that war. Timtown is a story of a character that holds all the cards and chooses not to use them. Tainer and Billy lived that for a time in that war. They had the choice of life and death and used it responsibly, wisely."

"Responsibly?" Cassey questioned, turning to look at Manny. "How can you say that? They were out hunting people."

"No, they were doing a job. Tainer told me how Billy was very careful to make sure they evaluated their targets," Manny explained. "Tainer was right, we only recognized Timtown for its market value, not for what it tried to say."

Cassey nodded her head in acknowledgment. "I'm very proud of you Manny," she said leaning over. "We've been together a long time and that can be the death knoll for many marriages. People get bored with each other really easy, but this has put a spark back in my heart for you," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "I think I'll keep you for a bit longer. I'm still a little pissed, though, about how careless you where, but I can forgive you because it wasn't what it seemed. Imagine, the nerve of that Tainer. What put you on to him?"

"It wasn't too hard to figure out after I had read Timtown, and the shit started happening," Manny said. "I thought, 'Damn, I sure wish I could have written something as great as this.' You said the same thing. Then when Tainer dispelled the book, I was thinking, Cassey loved it, why didn't Mark Tainer? That's what got me thinking. Then I remembered something he had said to me earlier, when I first met him. He was very frustrated that he had never written a book. From then on, I kind of knew what was happening, I just had to prove it, and someone was feeding that dip shit Swenson, it had to be either you or Tainer."

"You were suspicious of me?" Cassey asked, lifting her head and looking at Manny.

"No, not really because you had nothing to gain. Besides, I know you well enough. If you wanted to get rid of me, you would have just done it, not pulled some dastardly deed."

"It must have seemed that way, that I didn't want you anymore, at least for a while?"

"You thought I did something bad. If I had really done it, I wouldn't have blamed you."

"How pragmatic."

"Cassey, I started out wondering how the hell Billy got overlooked, then how he must have felt. All of a sudden I was the one on the outside looking in, being accused and not being guilty. When you end up standing in those shoes, the only thing that matters is getting the true story out, for me anyway. I had a lot to lose, and I had to clear myself. You know, the truth is; Billy wasn't all that impressed with us, Cassey, otherwise he would have stuck around, tried to make us see the light. The saga of Billy really reads, 'he went his own way.' We really had nothing to do with it. How could we, we were just kids and he was a man?"

"You really stuck your neck out. It was incredibly brave," Cassey said, putting her head back on Manny's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm proud of me too." Manny responded, resting his chin on her head. "I can see why you don't want to get rid of me."

Chapter 41

The old cemetery didn't seem so glum this time, as Manny and Cassey stood in front of Billy Palmer's grave. The sun was setting in the West on a warm summer evening, birds were singing, and the trees were full of leaves.

"A little nicer than the last time we were here," Manny commented.

"It doesn't make me any happier," Cassey said.

"No, me neither, but we've sort of come full circle."

"Billy is still dead," Cassey said, sadly. The only difference is the weather is nicer, and the new tombstone is better."

"But, Billy Palmer is going to the movies," Manny stated.

"He doesn't get to appreciate it though."

"I did the best I could."

"Don't go trying to take all the credit for this Manny," Cassey said, punching Manny in the shoulder. "I could have been difficult about it, but I cared about Billy too, and let you run with it. People were trying to convince me you had something going on the side, and that's why you tried to have me killed. It's no fun hearing that, and having to stay quiet, but I did."

"Yes, you did, my dear, so let's go out and be seen together, really loving it up, really make a spectacle of ourselves. By the way, I got a two-million dollar lawsuit from that peckerhead Crane."

"For what?"

"He claims I ruined his credibility."

"Really, what're you going to do about it?"

"I sent him a check for a dollar and a little note. I told him, 'When he's gone there'll just be some oxygen missing, and his only contribution to society was the fertilizer that came out of his ass.'" Manny snickered as he looked at the stone he had erected for Billy.

Here rests William(Billy)Perry Palmer

Born, November 19, 1947

Died, November 7, 1998

A Representative of the 58,626 Men and Women

That gave their lives in a faraway place

To Preserve our Freedoms

"Honey," Cassey laughed. "you do have a way with words."

"Words. Hell," Manny laughed, "the check's no good!"

####

Epilogue:

Three positive things came out of the mess that was called Vietnam: one; the communists lost their ability to finance their attempts at global domination, two; never again would America expend any soldiers without them knowing why, and three; never let politicians run a war.

Biography

I was born in Winnipeg, Canada on 11/29/47. My father was a golf course superintendent there, and when I was seven, we moved to Fargo N.D. where my father took over the duties at the Fargo Country Club. I played a lot of golf and had a great time living at the course. I can still hit the crap out of the ball, but can't score. So what else is new?

I graduated from high school in Fargo and then joined the Marines. I was a Scout-sniper in Vietnam and saw considerable action and can say, "Combat is a great teacher, provided it doesn't leave one scarred and unable to go on."

I went into the golf business, first as a superintendent/designer, then as a builder. I also taught the ever elusive golf swing and do understand it. I began writing in the business format, doing instruction manuals and design work for Manta Cars, and then shifted to entertainment: news paper, magazines, then novels, and finally screen plays.

I wrote a golf book, 'the Balance Swing', and wrote, produced, directed, edited and starred in a matching video. I've also written three additional novels: Timtown, The Searching Soul, and Billy Palmer. All four novels have screen plays.

I am presently working on a 1960's rock and roll musical with fast cars and original songs as the theme.

While working the designing and constructing businesses, I stood my ground many years ago and proclaimed my competition was irresponsible and money grubbing. I was vindicated later when an associate, who defined my complaints as counter productive, came to me and said, "Ronski, you were right, weren't you?" I saved close to ten-thousand beautiful, jungle trees on a golf course project, on Guam.

I've always been green because when I lived outside of Fargo, I noticed the trees starting to bud a day early in town one spring. I asked my father and he said, "Obviously it is warmer in town," This was 1957, when I was eight, and already I understood global warming.

I've have had all the toys, but only for the experience of playing with them, never for just having them. I haven't owned a car in seven years and my bike is my best friend.

I currently live in Palm Desert, CA. because I'd rather be hot than cold.

