Billy Summers

‘Fascinating stuff,’ Richter says, bending to squint at the screen that’s just changed from the dangerous vegetable (corn, as it happens, which isn’t even a real vegetable) to ten famous unsolved murders (JonBenét Ramsey leading the pack). ‘Just fascinating.’ He straightens up and looks around. ‘I like what you’ve done to the place.’

Alice has neatened it up a bit, but otherwise it’s the same as it was when he moved in. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Richter?’

‘Well, I just came to give you a little heads-up.’ Richter, recalled to business, smooths his tie and puts on a professional smile. ‘A consortium called Southern Endeavor has bought up those storage sheds back there on Pond Street and the houses, the few that remain, here on Pearson Street. Which includes this one. They’re planning on a new shopping mall that should revitalize this whole section of town.’

Billy doubts that malls can revitalize anything in the age of the Internet, including themselves, but he says nothing.

Alice is calming down, and that’s good. ‘I’ll just go in the bedroom and let you men talk,’ she says, and does just that, closing the door behind her.

Billy puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet, making the fake stomach bulge a bit against the sweatshirt. ‘The storage sheds and houses are going to be knocked down, is that what you’re telling me? Including this one, I assume.’

‘Yes, but you’ll have six weeks to find new accommodations.’ Richter says it as if conveying a great gift. ‘Six weeks is firm, I’m afraid. Give me a forwarding address before you move out, Cuz, and I’ll be happy to refund any rent that’s owing.’ Richter sighs. ‘I’ll have to tell the Jensens when I leave here. That could be harder, because they’ve been here longer.’

It’s not for Billy to tell him that Don and Beverly will be looking for a new place anyway, maybe to buy instead of to rent, when they get back from their cruise. But he does tell Richter that the Jensens will be gone for awhile and he’s been taking care of their plants. ‘Me and my niece, that is.’

‘Very neighborly of you. And she’s a lovely girl.’ Richter licks his lips, perhaps just to moisten them, perhaps not. ‘Do you have a phone number for the Jensens?’

‘I do. It’s in my wallet. Will you excuse me for just a sec?’

‘Of course.’

Alice is sitting on the bed and looking at him with big eyes. Most of the color has left her face, making the bruises even more prominent. What? those eyes say. And How bad?

Billy raises a hand and pats the air with it: Be cool, be cool.

He gets his wallet and goes back into the living room, remembering to walk fat. Richter is bent over one of the AllTechs, hands on knees, tie hanging down like a stopped pendulum, looking at the wonders of the avocado, nature’s most perfect vegetable (it’s actually a fruit). For one moment Billy actually considers lacing his fingers together and bringing the hammer down on the back of Richter’s neck, but when Richter turns, Billy just opens his wallet and holds out a slip of paper. ‘Here it is.’

Richter takes a little pad from his inner pocket and jots down the number with a silver pencil. ‘I’ll give them a ringy-dingy.’

‘I can do it, if you want.’

‘By all means, by all means, but I’ll still have to call them myself. Part of the job. Sorry to trouble you, Mr Smith. I’ll let you go back …’ His eyes flick briefly to the bedroom door. ‘… to whatever you were doing.’

‘I’ll see you out,’ Billy says. Pitching his voice lower, he says ‘I want to talk to you about …’ He tilts his head to the bedroom.

‘None of my business, Cuz. This is the twenty-first century.’

‘I know, but it’s not like that.’

They walk up the stairs to the foyer. Billy brings up the rear, puffing a little. ‘Got to lose some weight.’

‘Join the club,’ Richter says.

‘That poor kid’s my sister Mary’s girl,’ Billy says. ‘Mary’s husband left her a year ago and she picked up this loser, I think in a bar. Bob somebody. He’s been after the girl and beat her up when she wouldn’t come across for him, if you know what I mean.’

‘I get it.’ Richter is looking out the foyer door like he can’t wait to get back to his car. Maybe the story makes him uncomfortable, Billy thinks. Or maybe he just wants to get away from me.

‘Here’s the other piece. Mary’s got quite the temper, doesn’t like anyone telling her her business.’

‘Know the type,’ Richter says, still looking out the door. ‘Know it very well.’

‘I’ll keep my niece for a week, maybe ten days, let Sis cool down a bit, then take her back and talk to her about Bob.’

‘Got it. Wish you luck.’ He turns to Billy and offers a hand with a smile to go with it. The smile looks genuine. Richter may believe his story. On the other hand, he may be acting as if his life depends on it, which he might think it does. Billy gives him a good firm shake.

Richter exclaims, ‘Women! Can’t live with em and can’t shoot em outside the state of Alabama!’