Whistling In the Dark Read online

  Troo looked over at me and I nodded so she’d know what Ethel said was right. I was good at sharing and would be happy to share Mr. Dave with Troo equal equal. After all, Troo had shared Sky King with me. Not knowing. But she did. I think even if she had known, she would’ve. Maybe not right at first, because that was something Trooper could use some work on, but she would eventually. I think.

  And since she, like me, thought Ethel was the smartest person we knew, Troo asked her the same thing she asked me earlier, which was exactly what I was hoping she’d do. “But what about Uncle Paulie? I made him into a brain-damaged person and now he just builds Popsicle stick houses and can’t be a carpenter like he was.”

  “Paulie a carpenter? Wherever did you get that idea from?” Ethel said, frowning. “Your uncle Paulie weren’t no carpenter. Paulie was a bookie.”

  I was the one who told Troo that Uncle Paulie was a carpenter because I could have sworn I heard Mr. Jerbak call him a carpenter before the crash, when Uncle Paulie was gonna give me a ride home back to the farm after a visit at Granny’s. We’d stopped up at Jerbak’s Beer ’n Bowl on the way because he said he had some business to attend to. When we walked into the dark room that smelled of Vitalis and beer and chocolate chip cookies, from behind the bar Mr. Jerbak hollered, “Hey, lookee who’s here. If it ain’t Paulie the carpenter. The guy who nails more broads than Jesus nailed boards.” And all the men at the bar laughed and laughed and I had three kiddie cocktails while some of the men gave Uncle Paulie their money. So maybe Ethel was mixed up.

  “Do you know what that is? A bookie?” Ethel asked.

  Hadn’t Eddie gotten his Chevy car from a bookie who couldn’t pay his dues?

  Troo and me said together, “No.”

  “A bookie is somebody who takes bets for other people,” Ethel said.

  Troo asked, “Bets on what?”

  “Well, it really don’t matter no more, does it? But that was what your uncle Paulie were. A bookie.”

  Ethel took another long drink from her sweaty lavender metal glass and then set it back down on the kitchen table. “I’ll tell you one thing, Miss Troo, something I really noticed about your uncle after that crash. I knew him pretty good before that crash because I was keepin’ company with a gentleman around that time who had a fondness for the ponies.”

  A fondness for the ponies? Like me?

  Ethel got up and walked her empty glass to the sink. “You know I’m sad to tell you this, but your uncle Paulie, he weren’t so nice in them days. In fact, some folks thought Paulie Riley was the baddest man around. So maybe in a way you did yourself and your family a favor, Miss Troo. Come to think of it, Paulie, too.” Ethel pulled open the refrigerator and took something out. “Anybody yearnin’ for a radish sandwich?” That was what Ethel always had during the summer for a snack. God only knows why. But her wavin’ that bunch of radishes around, it made me have a memory that just came to me out of nowhere, just blew through my head like a hot wind.

  On the afternoon of the crash, Mother and Uncle Paulie were standing on the porch at the farm. I was getting a drink out of the hose and cleaning off some of the little radishes I’d just picked from the garden, tending to it the way Daddy had told me to so he wouldn’t be disappointed in me anymore when he came back from the game. I was feeling real, real bad about saying those mean things to him. I swore to myself I’d make it up to him. Later on I’d give him a rub on his tan neck. He especially liked that. Mother and Uncle Paulie didn’t know I was out there. I set the hose down and snuck a little closer because Mother had a funny look on her face. Daddy and Troo were sitting in the car in the driveway, facing away from the house listening to some loud cha-cha music on the radio. I froze myself so I could hear what Uncle Paulie was saying to Mother. His voice was like how Butchy sounded when you tried to take away his bone.

  Uncle Paulie was real close up to her, his chest pressing against hers. “Got myself into a little trouble and I need some dough. Break open the cookie jar, little Miss Stuck-Up, or I’m gonna tell your husband about you know who.” Then Uncle Paulie touched her lips and ran his finger across them. Mother hauled back and slapped Uncle Paulie across the face, knocking the cigarette right out of his mouth. Then Uncle Paulie left through the screen door, but not before he smiled and said, “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that, Helen.”

  Mother stood there on that porch staring after Uncle Paulie until he got into the car. Then she ran into the house, and through her bedroom window I heard her crying. I got so scared. I needed to tell Daddy to come back . . . that Uncle Paulie had made Mother cry . . . that I was sorry I said I hated him and wished for another daddy. It couldn’t wait. I dropped the hose and ran down the driveway after them, but all that was left was the dust of the car where it had pulled out onto the road in a hurry.

  It was funny how those radishes made me remember that, but sometimes baseball and hot dogs with mustard and relish also made me have rememberings of Daddy, so maybe it was the same sort of thing. But for sure I knew now that Ethel was telling the honest-to-God truth about my uncle being a bad, bad man. I said to her, “I think Uncle Paulie might be the molester who murdered Junie and Sara.”

  Ethel made her eyes go so big that the brown part looked like a fly on a plate of mashed potatoes. “Paulie a murderer and molester? Oh, Miss Sally, you have got to get that imagination under control. Why, Paulie could never do nothin’ like that. He can barely get hisself dressed.” She looked over at Troo and said, “Now he coulda done somethin’ like that in the old days, cuz in the old days that man was nastier than chicken poop on a pump handle. I could tell you some stories that would make your hair stand straight up. Back then, Paulie was always drinkin’ up at Jerbak’s and takin’ bets and most of all—womanizin’.” Ethel shook her head like she was so disgusted. “I’m gonna tell you something now that maybe I shouldn’t but I think I’m goin’ to anyway, for Miss Troo’s sake.” She lowered her voice and said, “But you gotta swear that you don’ ever tell nobody. Spit and shake.” Ethel spit into her hand and we did the same and shook on it. “Paulie got hisself arrested that summer for breakin’ the legs of a man who wouldn’t pay him his bettin’ money and then takin’ advantage of that man’s wife. He was gonna have to go to jail for a very long time for doin’ that. But after that car crash with your daddy . . . your mother, she got Officer Rasmussen to make that work out all right by asking him to give that man and his wife some money so they’d drop them charges against your uncle.”

  The O’Malley sisters’ mouths fell right open.

  Ethel shook her head back and forth and made her aaahhhaaa sound. “God the Father sure do work in mysterious ways.”

  We just sat there and thought about that together until Ethel said, “Why ever did you think Paulie was the murderer and molester, Miss Sally?”

  I told her about the first time I got chased down the alley, the night Fast Susie told me and Troo that Frankenstein story. And how I hid under the Kenfields’ bushes and when I was there I saw those pink-and-green argyle socks. And how I found those same pink-and-green argyles soaking in the cold water in Granny’s sink.

  Then it was Ethel’s turn to hang her mouth open. “Why in Sam Hill didn’t you tell nobody about gettin’ chased down the alley like that?”

  “Because back then I thought it was Rasmussen and I didn’t think anybody would believe me because of my imagination being overactive.”

  “Oh Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, I’ll tell Dave about this when he comes home from work, though I’m not sure what good it’ll do now.” Ethel checked her watch. “Mrs. Galecki, she’s gonna be wakin’ up soon from her mornin’ nap. I gotta go give her the new medicine to keep her calm. Been a little somethin’ somethin’ going on with Mr. Gary that I’ll tell you about later at lunch.” Ethel walked toward the screen door, saying, “You two go off now to the playground and come back around when you hear the twelve o’clock church bells and I’ll have some of them peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches waiti
n’ for you.”

  Troo went after Ethel and put her head on her giant bosoms. Troo wanted to say thanks for telling her about Uncle Paulie, because now she just noticed she hardly didn’t feel that bad anymore. She didn’t say that, but I knew that’s what Troo would say some other time, when it wasn’t so hard for her. Mental telepathy.

  When Troo let go of her, Ethel stared us each straight in the eyes and said a little scarily, “ ’Member your promise, you two,” and let the screen door slam behind her.

  “You know, Ethel is right. God,” Troo came back and said. “Our Father really does work in mysterious ways.”

  And all I could think to say as I was standing in our new kitchen with a chocolate-chip-cookie-smelling breeze coming through the checkered yellow curtains and Junie Piaskowski’s picture hanging on the dining room wall, that clock counting the minutes slow and steady with pussycat feet, “Yes, He does. Yes, He does.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  We didn’t live across from the playground anymore so to get over there Troo and me had to cut through the Fazios’ backyard. Laying on the grass on a white blanket, listening to rock ’n’ roll music, was Fast Susie. She had on her pink polka-dot swimsuit with the pleated skirt, a matching glass of pink lemonade next to her.

  “Hi,” I said, coming up next to her. I couldn’t believe she was working on her tan some more. She was past Egyptian dark and almost the same color as Ray Buck.

  Fast Susie shaded her eyes and looked up at us. “O’Malley sisters? That you? Where the hell you been?” She laughed like whatever she was about to tell us really fractured her. “Heard the word?”

  Troo was so happy to see her that she smiled so big, you could practically see it coming out the back of her head. Fast Susie was Troo’s idol.

  Fast Susie grinned like the cat in Alice in Wonderlandand said, “Reese Latour is goin’ into the army.”

  “Really?!” I yelled. I just hated Reese Latour and I felt so happy for Artie since Reese couldn’t run around the neighborhood anymore yelling harelip, harelip, harelip. And Reese couldn’t call Wendy the idiot anymore. Or stare at Troo with those eyes that gave me heebie-jeebies while he rubbed the front of his pants. No doubt about it. Reese going into the army was fantastic news! Almost too good to be true.

  I said, “You absolutely sure?”

  Fast Susie made her eyebrows go up and down like Groucho’s. “You bet your life, little lady.”

  Whatever thing with garlic Nana Fazio was making for supper tonight, the deliciousness of it was coming out the back window, and Elvis was singing about “A Big Hunk o’ Love” on the radio when Fast Susie said, “I heard Tony and Jane talkin’ about it.” Those were Fast Susie’s parents. Sometimes though she called them the ape-man and Jane and I didn’t blame her because Mr. Fazio was almost as hairy as Sampson. I am not kidding. Mr. Fazio worked selling silver-ware. That’s what Willie O’Hara had heard. That Mr. Fazio worked for somebody called Frankie the Knife.

  “Remember when Wendy fell down the Spencers’ cellar steps?” Fast Susie asked.

  Troo said, “Yeahhhhh . . .”

  “And remember how everybody thought she just had one of her silly wanderings?”

  I said, “Nooo . . .” I never believed that for one second. “Reese did it.” Fast Susie popped up, which made me and Troo jump, which was exactly what she was trying to make us do.

  “Reese pushed Wendy down the Spencers’ cellar steps?” I asked her.

  “Yup. And Wendy finally told on him.”

  I thought back to that day when Wendy and me were sitting on the Kenfields’ porch swing and I asked her if Rasmussen had done it to her and then her mother with the opera lungs called her and she ran home. Why didn’t she tell me then that it was Reese?

  “Reese is saying Wendy made it all up, of course.” Fast Susie squirted some baby oil into her hand and smoothed it on her legs. She had told Troo and me at the beginning of summer that she was thinking of starting to shave, which I thought would be a very good idea since her legs took after Tony the ape-man. “He’s telling everybody that Wendy is just a dumb idiot and that if anyone believes her, they’re an idiot, too.”

  “Oh my God, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I said. Reese Latour had been the murderer and molester all the time. I just couldn’t believe that. Why hadn’t I been paying attention to details?

  “When he found out what Reese had done to Wendy, Mr. Latour beat the living shit out of him with a strap. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him yellin’ over at your house.” Fast Susie was getting a lot of good feelings out of telling us this news. She hated Reese even more than the rest of us did. Who wouldn’t?

  Troo snorted, “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  “And guess who else is going away for a little trip?” Fast Susie showed her eyeteeth. “Greasy Al.”

  Troo started hopping around. “Really? Really? Greasy Al is going into the army, too?”

  “No, they wouldn’t take him into the army because of his gimpy polio leg,” Fast Susie said, taking a sip of her lemonade. “He’s going to reform school up north.”

  So that’s what Rasmussen meant when he said he had taken care of that subject.

  Greasy Al’s departure didn’t really register in my mind just then because I was still so shocked about what Fast Susie had told us about Reese. He’d been the one who chased me down the alley that night, and when he couldn’t get me he musta turned back toward home, and Wendy was doing one of her wanderings and he found her and tried to murder and molest his own sister. She probably got away because Wendy was really strong and that was another one of those things that God gave people when He took something else away. I once saw Wendy Latour pick up Artie when she got mad at him one day and throw him about six feet in the air. That’s how strong Wendy was. And some of those hugs she gave me, holey moley.

  But wait a minute.

  If Reese was the murderer and molester, how come he wasn’t getting electrocuted and was just getting sent to the army? That didn’t seem right. “What about Sara and Junie?” I asked Fast Susie.

  “What about ’em?” She was smoothing baby oil all over her arms, her hair standing up like a black forest.

  “Don’t you think it was Reese that murdered them?” I asked.

  Troo said, “Yeah, that’s what I told you before!” She looked so proud of herself. “That Reese Latour is the murderer and molester.” She was right. She’d told me in the hospital lobby with her ventriloquism lips.

  Fast Susie said, “Naw, I don’t think it was Reese. If it was, Officer Rasmussen woulda come by and taken Reese off in handcuffs, and I been lyin’ here all morning and woulda seen him come by.”

  I still thought Troo was right. It was Reese. And when Mr. Dave came home tonight from the police station, I would tell him that. He probably hadn’t thought it through all the way because of his excitement about me being his new daughter and everything.

  “Troo,” I said, crossing over into the Latours’ yard, “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go over and check on Wendy.”

  “I’m goin’ over to the playground and celebrate Greasy Al going to reform school. Come over there when you’re done, Thally O’Malley.” Troo could do an imitation of Wendy that was so close I had to smile. Even though it wasn’t very nice of her, it was still a good imitation.

  When I was almost to the Latours’ front door, Fast Susie called over to me, “You know what, O’Malley?” I turned back. “You’re a nice kid. A square, but a nice kid.” And then she turned her radio up so she could sing along to “Splish Splash, I Was Taking a Bath.”

  That was a nice thing for Fast Susie to say. I was feeling pretty nice. Very happy that Reese would no longer be able to murder or molest anybody ever again. Especially me. And maybe up north Greasy Al would get reformed, and when he came home he would not be such a bully. And Mother hadn’t died and Mr. Dave’s house was much more wonderful than our old one. Nell and Eddie were getting married. And Ethel was going to be my next-doo
r neighbor with visits from Mr. Gary every summer. I even felt better about Uncle Paulie being brain damaged because according to Ethel he was a real pain in the patootie before the crash.

  So I felt . . . I didn’t know how to describe it exactly. Maybe . . . light? A lot lighter than I had for a long time. Like sunshine could get into me now.

  Feeling that way, I made the worst mistake ever. I stopped paying attention to the details. And by the time I remembered what Daddy’d warned me about, it was too late.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  After Wendy’s mother came to the door and told me she wasn’t home, I started to look for her, and then I saw her over on the swings at the playground. She was having one of her nude wanderings and was swinging so high that I could hear the chains snapping from across the street. By the time I got over there, Bobby, the playground counselor, was screaming, “Stop that, you’re gonna go over the top!”

  Wendy was smiling and not listening to Bobby, but when she saw me she yelled, “Thally O’Malley, look me. Wendy bird.”

  Bobby said, “What a moron,” and walked off.

  Gee, what was wrong with Bobby? It wasn’t at all like him to say something so mean. Maybe he was feeling out of sorts. This kind of bad summer heat could do that to a person. I wanted to chase after him and say, “Wendy is not a moron, she’s just celebrating because Reese has been mean to her all her life and now he is going to the Big House once Mr. Dave grills him tonight.” But I didn’t say that because Bobby was not one of us. When the playground closed down next month, he would be gone back to his college and wouldn’t be coming back again until next summer. So it really wasn’t any of Bobby’s beeswax. It was Vliet Street beeswax.