Keith Landry went to St. James for Sunday services, mostly because he'd been specifically invited by Pastor Wilkes, but partly out of curiosity and nostalgia.
The small church was almost full, and in the tradition of rural people, everyone was dressed in their Sunday best. Pastor Wilkes delivered a nicely pointed sermon on morality in government, specifically mentioning that public officials who break the Ten Commandments and ignore the laws of God are not fit to hold positions of trust in the nation or the community. Keith figured that Wilkes had read a transcript of Thursday's meeting and got right to work on the sermon. Pastor Wilkes didn't mention names, of course, but Keith was pretty sure everyone around him got it. He was also happy that Wilkes hadn't taken the opportunity to give a sermon on the coveting and adultery thing.
There was only one service at this small rural church, which put some peer pressure on the congregation, who couldn't play hooky and leave it to their neighbors to assume they'd gone to the other service. Keith had found this a problem when he was a teenager, but by his junior year of high school, he'd started going to St. John's in Spencerville and somehow always wound up near the Prentis family. His church attendance improved dramatically, and Mr. and Mrs. Prentis liked to see him there, but he felt guilty about his motives, not to mention the thoughts that ran through his mind during the service.
Keith looked around St. James and saw a number of people he knew, including his Aunt Betty, the Muller and Jenkins families, Jenny, without her friend of Thursday evening, but with two young children, and, interestingly, Police Officer Schenley from the high school and church parking lot incidents, with his family. Also there was Sherry Kolarik, of all people, who Keith imagined had returned to the scene of her public confession as a first step toward spiritual health. Like himself, Ms. Kolarik was undoubtedly relieved that Pastor Wilkes wasn't looking at her. However, the pastor did make an oblique reference to her predicament by reminding everyone that women were the weaker vessel, more sinned against than sinners themselves. Keith wondered how that would play in Washington, D.C.
Keith did not see the Porters and hadn't really expected to, but he had thought, or hoped, that Annie would surprise him by being there. But he guessed that this wasn't possible, that she'd be at St. John's with her sinning husband, and Keith wondered if he should drive into town for the eleven A.M. service there. He mulled this over, but decided it was not a very smart move at this juncture of events.
The service ended, and Keith walked down the church steps, where Pastor Wilkes shook the hands of everyone there and called them by name. Keith usually managed to avoid this familiarity after church, but this time he stood in line. When he got to Pastor Wilkes, they shook hands, and the old man seemed genuinely happy to see him, saying, "Welcome home, Mr. Landry. I'm delighted you could come."
"Thank you for inviting me, sir. I enjoyed your sermon."
"I hope you're able to come next week. Our discussion gave me an idea for a sermon."
"About the return of the prodigal son?"
"I had something else in mind, Mr. Landry."
"I may be out of town next Sunday."
Wilkes smiled mischievously. "Pity. I was going to discuss the role of the church in public affairs."
"Good topic. Perhaps you could send me a copy of it."
"I will."
They shook hands again, and Keith moved off. It was a cool, blustery morning, and a north wind blew through the cornfields and the trees, scattering the first leaves of autumn over the grass and through the tombstones of the churchyard. It was a starkly beautiful day, the white church and parsonage, the tall swaying elms, the picket fence of the cemetery, the clouds sailing across a pewter-colored sky. But there was something foreboding about it, Keith thought, something portentous about the autumn wind that blew the summer away and turned the land into hues of red and gold, which were deceptively pleasant harbingers of the dark season. As much as he wanted to stay, he was somehow glad he wouldn't be here much longer.
Keith ran into his aunt in the parking field, and she told him how pleased she was that he'd come to church, then invited him to Sunday dinner. Unable to think of a polite way to refuse — except to say that he'd rather watch the Redskins game and drink beer, which she wouldn't think was polite — he accepted.
At the appointed hour, around kickoff time, he arrived at Aunt Betty's with a bottle of French red Burgundy. Aunt Betty studied the label awhile, mouthing the French words, then put the bottle in the refrigerator. It didn't matter, because as it turned out, she didn't own a corkscrew anyway, and Keith sat in the living room with a glass of caffeine-free instant iced tea with too much sugar in it.
Also invited to dinner were some of the people he'd seen at the Labor Day barbecue — his mother's other cousin, Zack Hoffmann, and Zack's wife, Harriet, and their grown daughter, Lilly, and Lilly's husband, Fred. With Lilly and Fred were their three young boys, whose names Keith didn't catch and who were too young to demand that the Redskins-Cleveland game be turned on. The boys went outside and played in the yard.
Keith made small talk, aware that these people were related, and kept the conversation going by playing the family-tree game. Keith actually found it interesting in some essential, tribal way.
At dinner, which was traditional roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, and biscuits — the sort of American food that had disappeared from the nation's capital two decades ago — Harriet, still on the family-tree subject, mentioned, "My sister, Dorothy, married Luke Prentis. I think you know the Prentis family, Keith."
He looked at her and remembered why she looked familiar.
"I believe you once went out with my niece, Annie."
"Yes."
"She married one of the Baxter boys. Cliff. He's chief of police."
Keith wondered if he could open the wine bottle with a screwdriver.
Zack looked up from his roast beef and said, "I heard they had a meeting about Cliff Baxter at St. James. That fella is a..." He glanced at the boys and said, "... is a wild one, if you want my opinion."
Lilly and Fred agreed. Aunt Betty was oblivious, and the boys asked permission to be excused, which was granted.
Zack watched them go, then leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, "I heard he fooled around. They had some woman up there in the church, and brazen as can be she told everybody she and Cliff Baxter was up to somethin'."
Aunt Betty asked, "Does anyone want seconds?"
Harriet turned to Keith and asked him, "Have you seen Annie since college?"
"No."
Fred said, "I hear there was another woman up there, Mary Aries, and she and her husband, Bob, own that gas station on 22, and she told how Cliff Baxter would help himself to things in their convenience store, then make her put the charge on the town gas bill."
Harriet said, "My sister was at that meeting, and what she heard about her son-in-law's fooling around made her sick." She looked at Keith.
Keith listened to the conversation, noting that Fred and Zack were more concerned about the police chief's financial misdeeds than his marital transgressions, while Lilly and Harriet were fixated on the sanctity of marriage.
Lilly said, "If I heard that my husband was fooling around, I'd kick him out without another thought."
Fred didn't look like the type who would or could fool around, Keith thought, but having been forewarned, he looked almost chastised.
Aunt Betty said, "There's plenty more in the kitchen."
Harriet said to Keith, "I wouldn't be surprised if she walked out on him."
"Who?"
"Annie."
"Oh... right. The spouse is usually the last to know."
"My niece is a saint," Harriet said. "She raised two fine children and keeps that house like a showcase for him. She deserves better."
Lilly said to her mother, "Someone should let her know, in case she doesn't know. If it was my husband doing that, and no one told me, they wouldn't be my friend, I'll tell you that." She looked at Fred, whom Keith was beginning to suspect of adultery.
Harriet came to the defense of her son-in-law and said, "Fred wouldn't even think of fooling around."
People liked the topic of adultery, Keith had discovered, here or in Washington, Rome, Paris, Moscow, everywhere. But as interesting as it was in the abstract, or in specific cases at hand, it always got touchy and too close for comfort, and so, though everyone at that table was free of sin — except for himself — the topic was dropped. Harriet said to Keith, "I'll tell Annie I saw you. I'm sure she'd tell me to say hello to you."
"Thank you. Please send her my best regards."
"I certainly will. Maybe you'll run into her someday."
"You never know." Keith made a mental note to tell Annie to send Harriet a postcard from Rome.
Aunt Betty announced, "We have lime gelatin with marshmallows for dessert. Does anyone want coffee? I have instant, decaffeinated. I can boil water."
Keith stood. "I hate to eat and run, Aunt Betty, but I promised someone I'd meet them at five."
"It's only a quarter to. Have some dessert first."
Keith recalled that Aunt Betty always had some problems with chronological reasoning, so he said, "I like to drive slow. Thank you, it was a terrific meal." He kissed her and shook hands all around, saying to Fred, "Stay out of trouble," and to Harriet, "My best regards to your sister and to Mr. Prentis."
"They'll be thrilled."
"I hope so."
He left, said goodbye to the boys, who were throwing a football around, and got into his car.
On the way home, he replayed parts of the conversation. What interested him was not what was said about Cliff Baxter, or Annie Baxter, but that good old Harriet was playing Cupid. Keith laughed. There were people, he thought, who, no matter how old they were or how they were raised, had romance in their hearts. Poor Lilly and Fred had no spark of it and probably never did, and neither did Aunt Betty. But old Zack and Harriet still looked at each other with a gleam in their eyes. Lovers, Keith decided, were special people, and all lovers recognized other lovers, so he knew that Harriet heard his heart beat every time she mentioned Annie.
The next three days, Monday to Wednesday, Keith spent at home. He did not want to risk even one foray away from the farm, not one incident or confrontation with Baxter or his men. He was too close to the goal line, to use football analogy, the clock was ticking, and it was no time for anything fancy or risky. The last play would be a running play.
Although he was safely within the confines of his own home, and under the law he was king in his own castle, he had another concern. While he couldn't imagine that Baxter could present a judge with any reason to approve a phone tap, it had occurred to him that Baxter might put a tap on the line anyway. One of the standard gadgets in Keith's briefcase was a bug alert which he'd never thought he'd use again, but he had swept the house with it a few times, discovering nothing. He also checked the inside phone connection in the cellar every time he left the house and returned. There was a device to detect a telephone pole line tap, but he didn't have the device in his bag of tricks. Another possibility was a directional microphone aimed at his house, but he could see for a mile in any direction from his second-floor window, and he never saw a vehicle parked for a long time. He doubted if the Spencerville police had any high-tech eavesdropping devices anyway. But you never knew.
Keith knew, prior to Saturday, that Baxter had not had a tap, legal or illegal, on his phone, because if he had, then Cliff Baxter would have been at Reeves Pond on Saturday, and one of them would be laid out at Gibbs Funeral Home today. But even if there had been no tap on his phone Saturday, there could be one today, and he'd operate on that assumption. In any case, he didn't think he needed to use his phone to finalize or change any plans.
Some weeks ago, when Keith thought he was going to stay around, he had considered buying a cellular phone, and he was also going to call his former colleagues in Washington to do a complete electronic check as well as a search of court records to see if anyone had requested a tap. The National Security Council was as interested in his phone security as he was, though in this case for different reasons.
With that thought in mind, Keith wondered why he hadn't heard a word from anyone in Washington. He didn't care, except that the silence was getting ominous.
By Wednesday afternoon, his self-imposed seclusion was becoming tedious. He wondered about Annie, worried about her, but satisfied himself with the adage that no news was good news, which was not true regarding Washington, and was absolutely contrary to the lessons of the last twenty years of intelligence work.
Later in the afternoon, as he was pruning and splinting the raspberry bushes that had been run over, he threw down his pruning hook and kicked a bushel across the yard. "Damn it!" He didn't like to be confined, self-imposed or otherwise, and he worried about her. He jumped in the Blazer, where his M-16 rifle sat on the passenger seat, and, with his Glock tucked in his belt, he drove out to the road. He sat there, near the mailbox, and finally got himself under control. He drove back to the house.
Keith packed the bare essentials, mostly his personal papers, passport, and a few changes of clothes. He couldn't take the weapons on the aircraft, though he'd take his briefcase with the gadgets and gizmos such as a tear-gas pen, microfilm camera, a graphite knife, and, if you were having a bad day, a cyanide capsule, plus other weird things, none of which he'd ever used, but which he felt obligated not to leave in the house.
He went to the kitchen and realized he was completely out of food, including beer. No one in Spencer County delivered food, as far as he knew, and it was a long time until Saturday morning. He supposed he could impose on Mrs. Jenkins or Mrs. Muller to pick up a few things for him, but he had another idea that would solve three problems at once, and he picked up the phone and dialed the Porters.
Jeffrey answered, and Keith said, "This is the FBI. You're under arrest for advocating the violent overthrow of the United States government."
"I think you want my wife."
"How are you?"
"Fine. Meant to call you..."
"Are you guys free for dinner tonight?"
"Sure. Your place?"
"Right. About seven."
"Looking forward to it."
"Do me a favor, Jeffrey."
"Sure."
"I'm completely out of food, and my car won't start. Could you guys bring everything?"
"Sure."
"And wine."
"No problem."
"And I need some cash."
"Should we bring the dinnerware, too?"
"No, I've got that. Also, can you cash a thousand-dollar check for me?"
"Sure. Hey, a friend of yours stopped by..."
"Tell me about it later."
"No, you want to hear this now..."
"Later. Thanks." He hung up. Annie. It had to be Annie by the tone of Jeffrey's voice. "Good. She's all right, everything is fine." Which solved the problem of finding out if she was all right, and the Porters would bring food and money, which solved the other problems of the moment. There was something uniquely satisfying about beating the bad guys at their own game, but if he didn't put himself in these situations in the first place, he wouldn't have to get out of them, and he might discover that he'd be just as happy mastering chess.
The Porters arrived twenty minutes late, which for ex-hippies was pretty good. Out on the porch, Keith took a canvas bag of herbs from Gail, and Jeffrey carried a cardboard box filled with plastic containers. Gail said, "I cooked everything. We wouldn't eat for hours otherwise. You only have to heat it."
"I think I have a stove."
Inside, Gail said, "What a charming house. You grew up here?"
"I was born and raised here. I haven't grown up yet."
She laughed, and Keith showed them into the kitchen. They put the food down, and Gail said, "Curry In A Hurry."
"Excuse me?"
Jeffrey explained, "In Antioch, they had this great little Indian carry-out place called Curry In A Hurry, and every time Gail doesn't want to cook now, she says, 'Call Curry In A Hurry.' But I don't think they'd deliver to Spencerville."
"Worth a try. Hey, I'm sorry to put you out like this."
Gail replied, "No problem. You owed us dinner, and we're glad to deliver it for you."
Jeffrey went back to the car for the wine. As Gail and Keith found pots and pans, she said, "We brought jumper cables. Didn't you buy that car new?"
"There's nothing wrong with the car."
"Oh. I thought..."
"I'll explain later."
"Maybe I can guess. The fuzz is harassing you."
Keith began setting the table. "You got it."
"That's disgusting. You have to fight back, Keith."
"It's a long story. If you brought enough wine, I'll tell you."
"Okay."
Jeffrey returned with three bottles of red wine, and Keith opened one. He emptied a bottle into three big water glasses. "The stemware is out being monogrammed. Cheers."
They drank, then sat at the kitchen table, where Gail had set out crackers and some sort of multicolored spread. Keith asked, "What's this?"
"Vegetable pate."
"Looks like Play-Doh. Tastes good."
They drank wine, ate, talked, but clearly there were some unanswered questions at the table. Gail related to Jeffrey what Keith said about the police, and Jeffrey remarked, "You can't stay here trapped like an animal."
Gail inquired, "When is the last time you've eaten?"
"Am I being a pig?"
"Keith, this is not like you," Jeffrey said. "You can't let the police intimidate you."
"It's a long story. Hey, how are the sales of True Confessions?"
"Incredible," Jeffrey replied. "Sold five hundred copies already. They're being passed around, so we can assume a few thousand people have read it. That's a lot of people for a small county. I think we have this guy on the run. In fact, that's what I was going to tell you on the phone. Who do you think shows up at our door and asks to buy a copy?"
Keith sipped his wine. "Who?"
"You have to guess."
"Cliff Baxter."
Gail laughed. "Close."
"Come on," Jeffrey said, "I told you it was an old friend of yours."
"Annie Baxter."
"Bingo! Can you believe that?"
"I can."
Gail said, "That took some courage." She smiled at Keith. "She looked good."
"Good."
"In fact, for a woman whose husband is being exposed as a blackmailer, graft-taker, and adulterer, she seemed pretty cooled-out. Almost cheerful."
"Maybe she's got a boyfriend."
Gail observed, "That could explain her mood."
Jeffrey said, "We gave her the transcript for free, of course, and we invited her in. I was surprised she accepted. She had a cup of tea. It was nice talking to her again. We caught up on old times." He added, "I told her you were back, and she said she'd run into you outside the post office."
"Right."
Gail inquired, "Did you feel a little thump-thump?"
"Sure."
"Well; I wouldn't be surprised if she's on the market soon," Gail said. She added, "You know, I felt a little bad. I mean, we never intended to cause problems for her at home, but I guess that was a natural result of what we had to do to get at him. But he brought it on himself."
"I suppose. If you play, you pay."
"Unless you have an understanding like Jeffrey and I do. No one can come between us with evidence of infidelity."
"That's an interesting observation. But what if one of you fell deeply in love with a lover?"
"Well..." Gail seemed actually uncomfortable, and obviously something like this had happened to one or the other or both, once, twice, or more times. Gail said, "People fall in love across a room. It's actually less likely to happen with casual sex partners." She added, "Love has less to do with sex than with missing a person when they're not around. Didn't you say your heart went thump when you saw Annie? I mean, after twenty-some years, there's still something there. How many women have you screwed since her?"
"Counting foreigners?"
She laughed, then said, "And why hasn't a good-looking man like you gotten married?"
"I should have called Curry In A Hurry."
Jeffrey smiled. "Leave him alone, Gail. This subject obviously bothers him."
"Right," Keith agreed. He asked, "Are the Spencerville cops giving you guys any trouble?"
Jeffrey shook his head. "Not yet. I mean, Gail is a city councilwoman. I think they're waiting until after the election. We'll see who's still standing then."
Keith looked at both of them. "You ought to be careful in the meantime. Baxter is unstable."
Gail and Jeffrey glanced at each other, and Jeffrey said to Keith, "We're watching ourselves."
"Do you have a gun?"
"No," said Jeffrey. "We're pacifists. We get shot at."
"I have a rifle. Let me give it to you."
"No," Jeffrey said. "We won't use it."
"You might if it was in the house, and someone..."
"No. Please respect that, Keith."
"All right. But if you ever need help, give a holler."
"Okay."
Jeffrey got up and stirred the two pots. "Soup's ready."
They had the soup, then a vegetable curry, and were working on the last bottle of wine.
Keith made coffee, and Gail unveiled a carrot cake. Over cake and coffee, Jeffrey said, "Hey, I almost forgot." He put his hand in his pocket and came out with a bank envelope. "There's a thousand."
"Thanks." Keith took a check from his wallet and gave it to Jeffrey, who glanced at it and said, "This is for two thousand."
"That's a contribution to the cause. I never gave money to pinkos before."
Gail smiled. "We can't accept that, Keith."
"Yeah, you can. I don't need the money, and I want to do something."
"You can help us by joining us."
"I could, and I would. But I'm leaving."
Neither of them spoke.
Keith said, "Look, guys, I trust you, and I like you. Also, I may need your help. Ready for the long story?"
They nodded.
"Okay, I returned to Spencerville to go back to the starting line and see if I could run the race over again. Well, you can't do that. The race is over, but you can run a new race. Yeah, I'm beating around the bush. Okay, I'm in love with Annie, and..."
Gail slapped the table. "I knew it! See, Jeffrey, I told you."
"I told you."
"May I? This isn't easy. Anyway, we've been writing for twenty years..."
"I love this. Go on. Does she love you?"
Jeffrey said, "Gail, keep quiet."
"So, anyway, yes, she does, and we're running off. End of story."
"Like hell it is," said Gail. "Have you done it yet?"
"That's not relevant... no, we haven't..."
"Liar. I knew it. See? That's why she was floating on clouds. She asked if we'd spoken to you in the last few days. This is terrific. That pig deserves what he gets. Oh, Keith, I'm so happy for you." She stood and kissed him, which he figured was coming, and Jeffrey followed suit with a handshake.
Keith felt a little impatient and said, "Okay, so that answers a lot of questions for you, and I thought I owed you an explanation of why I couldn't commit to..."
"Hey," Jeffrey said, "you're doing your part by stealing his wife."
"I'm not actually stealing..."
"I always knew you two would get back together," Jeffrey said. "When are you leaving?"
"I can't say. But soon."
"How can we help?"
"Well, for starters, don't say a thing over the phone if we speak. I'm concerned that your phone or mine could be tapped."
"Yeah, they could be. What else?"
"Well, you brought the money, looks like enough food left for a few more days, and maybe Gail could keep her eyes and ears open around city hall."
"I always do. And I have a cop who's a source."
"Good. But don't trust him, either."
"When it comes to revolution, we don't trust too many people."
Keith nodded. "You know the game."
Jeffrey said, "So you're laying low until you... do you call it elopement if she's married?"
"For want of a better word, yes. I'll give you a key to the house, and I'd like you to look after it."
"No problem."
Gail asked, "Where did you do it? How many times? How did you get away with it?"
"We're old pros from high school days." Keith changed the subject and said, "Her husband is generally suspicious, and specifically pissed off at me for coming back here. He came out here last week, and we had some words. But he doesn't really know anything. He did give me a week to get out of town, and that time ends on Friday, but I won't be gone by then. He may come around again, and I'll ask for a few days' extension, because that's less complicated than killing him, which I promised not to do."
They seemed stunned by that remark, and Keith looked at them. "This is serious business. Not a game. He's borderline psychotic. You watch yourselves. The offer of the gun stands."
They stayed silent awhile, then Jeffrey said, "Hey, this is heavy stuff. Mind if I smoke?"
"Go right ahead." Jeffrey took a pouch and papers out of his shirt pocket and rolled one. He lit it with a match and offered it to Keith, who declined, then to Gail, who also declined. He shrugged, sat back, and smoked.
Gail asked, "Do you think Annie is safe?"
"I think so. But I'm getting these vibrations, if I can use that old word, and these vibrations tell me that people have picked up on something, sort of like they're intercepting these signals that go between this farm and Williams Street." Keith smiled. "Blow that smoke away, Jeffrey. I'm sounding like you."
Gail said, "No, I understand. I mean, even we figured something was up. Who else, besides Baxter?"
"Oh, just people. Pastors, and somebody's sister, and nice elderly ladies. I'm probably paranoid, but I'm concerned that Baxter's going to get onto something concrete. I have to ask you guys not to say or do anything that could arouse suspicion. Lay low yourselves until the weekend. Okay?"
"Done."
"If the plan falls apart, I may need you."
"We're here."
"I appreciate it. Hey, Jeffrey, who would have thought we'd be having dinner together again?"
Jeffrey took a toke and looked at him. "Time has healed a lot of those wounds, Keith. I'm glad we lived long enough to get smart."
Gail said, "If this is a prelude to male bonding, I'll go out on the porch."
Jeffrey said to Keith, "She feels threatened. That's why you need a woman, Keith, to balance out the dynamics of our interlocking relationships, and... whatever. Hey, where are you two going to go? Can we join you for dinner someplace?"
"Sure. I'll let you know."
Gail said, "We're going to miss you, Keith. We don't have many friends here."
"Maybe you will after you get rid of Police Chief Baxter."
"I don't think so. But perhaps. Will you come back here someday?"
"I'd like to. Depends on what happens with Baxter."
"Yeah," Jeffrey agreed, "I wouldn't advise you to look for a house on Williams Street for a while." He laughed. "Hey, I'd love to see his fucking face when he comes home and finds a fuck-you note on the refrigerator." Jeffrey got the giggles and slapped the table a few times.
Keith stood. "Let's sit on the porch. The maid will clear."
They sat on the porch and watched the sun go down. No one spoke for a long time, then Gail said, "What an amazing thing, Keith."
"What?"
"Love. I mean, through college, and turmoil, and war, and decades, and distance, and everything that life throws at you. If I were sentimental, I'd cry."