A Handy Death

“Because I kicked him out, that’s why. And I’d just as soon not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“It could be important,” Ross said. “What was the fight about?” Dupaul set his jaw tightly and stared down at his hands, keeping his silence. Ross sighed. “All right,” he said, “at least tell me this — was your fight with him the reason you went out and got drunk?”

Dupaul’s head came up, his eyes angry.

“I’d never get drunk because of a bastard like Jim Marshall! I got drunk because I was burned up over what he said. And I was too young to use my head!”

“What did he say?”

The silence returned. The correction officer glanced over, wondering at the quiet, and then looked away. When Dupaul spoke at last his voice was tight.

“What he said is none of your business. I don’t want to talk about it. That miserable bastard! I thought he was my best friend, and he pulls something like that!”

“Like what?” Ross asked softly.

“Stop asking.” Dupaul seemed to change the subject. “I admit I was always lucky. Always lucky — that’s a damn laugh, now — but until I got into that jam, I always figured myself as lucky. I never knew my folks, so I can’t honestly say I missed them, but Old John, my grandfather, took good care of me. At least I never wanted for anything since I can remember. Old John, after Grandma died, didn’t seem to have any income other than his social security, and I know for a fact he lost money when he sold the apple farm, but whatever I wanted, Old John would see that I got it.”

Dupaul’s voice was soft, back in the past, almost unaware of his surroundings.

“I never figured Jim Marshall was jealous, but I guess he must have really secretly envied me and hated me all the time. Since we were kids, I guess. I never would have believed it. After all I did for him, too. Hell, I bought him his lunch at school half the time. I even bought him his first baseball mitt. And then he starts telling lies about me. Well, I tossed him out on his ear and told him to stay out, and then I sat down in my room and remembered those bottles and — well, I guess that’s what started it.”

“What was the fight about? A girl?”

“A girl? Hell, we never had to fight about girls; it was the one thing we both had plenty of. Only I always had to bank-roll any heavy date he had, because Jim was always broke. But even after all I did for him, the lying son of a bitch talks to me like that!”

The blue eyes, angry with the memory, came to rest on Ross’s face.

“I told you before,” he said, “how I stopped wondering about how that woman got hold of my gun, after two years at Attica. Well, after eight years I’m still mad every time I think of Jim Marshall. I used to lie in my bunk night after night up in Attica thinking about that time in the hotel. Jim Marshall? I should have kicked his brains out!”

“Did it ever occur to you that Jim Marshall had access to that gun? He also probably had access to the mate to it, up in Queensbury. If he hated you as much as you claim, couldn’t he have given the gun to that woman?”

“Who, Jim? No, he was scared of guns. It’s the truth. Up home I’d ask him to go target shooting with me, or go duck hunting with one of Old John’s shotguns, but Jim was scared of guns. Funny, a big guy like him, but he was.”

“He still had access to them.”

“Not to the one in Queensbury. That one is locked up with the shotguns and all my stuff up there in a bonded warehouse. And the one down here — hell, that was gone even before we started to argue—”

He stopped abruptly, looking at Ross with startled eyes.

“I just remembered. After all these years I just remembered!”

Ross felt excitement stirring in him. “What did you just remember?”

“When we were arguing, even before Jim started to pack, I was so damn mad I went over to the drawer where I kept the pistol. I didn’t have any idea of using it — hell, I don’t know what I had in mind, to be honest. But it wasn’t there. And I watched Jim pack his bag and get out. And he didn’t take it then. So he couldn’t have taken it.”

The excitement drained away. Ross sighed.

“He could have taken it earlier,” he said. “Why won’t you tell me what he said that set you off like that?”

“Because it was a damn lie! Because it wouldn’t help you, anyway. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”

“Look,” Ross said, “any communication you have with me is confidential. You know that.”

“I know this,” Dupaul said flatly. “It’s sure as hell confidential now. And nobody will ever get it out of me. And, anyway, it’s still a damned lie!”

He came to his feet, prepared to leave. Ross stood up and put his hand on Dupaul’s shoulder.

“All right,” Ross said. “We’ll do what we can, Billy. The preliminary proceedings are scheduled for tomorrow. I doubt the riot will come into the discussion; the official investigation results haven’t been made public yet. We’ll do our best.”

Billy Dupaul studied Ross’s face a moment and thrust out his huge hand.