The Amulet. A.R. Morlan

The Amulet - A.R. Morlan


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over and slapped his arm, whispering, “I’m on next, you old fart, so shaddup.”

      “While foul play was initially suspected, preliminary results of an autopsy conducted at Ewerton Memorial Hospital Nursing Home soon ruled out murder, according to Dean County Cor—”

      “Here goes, here goes,” Lenny was chanting, as Mr. Winston nudged Anna and rolled his almond-shaped eyes.

      “There’s Lenny!” Mesabi shouted, while Arnie turned up the volume on the wall-mounted set.

      Lenny’s broad, bovine face, brown eyes darting around like flies caught in a windowless room, was sweating slightly as he said on camera, “Well, there had been some bleeding from head wounds, which made us think it was a homicide, but after the wounds was cleaned off, we found that they were—”

      “We, huh? Since when did you become a pathologist—”

      “Shaddup, Nemmitz!”

      “—scratches, probably from a bobcat or fox, both of which we got up this way—”

      “My God, Lenny, what a marvelous pitch for the hunting season. Chamber of Commerce should put you on salary,” Winston reflected dryly, as Lenny’s over-amplified voice droned on, “—but Doc Calder, he found evidence of a heart attack, even though Miz Hibbing wasn’t too old—”

      “That’s your opinion, Len,” Arnie said, as he leaned against the counter drying an old-fashioned glass. “That hussy’s been coming in here since, oh, 1965 or 1966, and she didn’t need no ID card then.”

      “—so we’re considerin’ the case closed, although we still don’t know how she came to be in the woods, or who it was who called the police—”

      “That was Dean County Coroner Leonard Wilkes. And in weather—”

      Arnie switched the TV to MTV—David Lee Roth hover­ing in midair with a microphone stand in his hand. Over at the table, Mesabi said, “You was sweating, Lenny. You looked better when Dead Fred Ferger kicked off. That time you had on a better shirt, too. Don’t you know, you ain’t ’sposed to wear green on TV? Makes you look like a fish.”

      “Or a corpse. Len, was old Inez really bloodied up good?” Nemmitz sounded as if he hoped the corpse was mangled. Flushed with stardom, Lenny regally took a sip of Bud before saying, “Not all that bad. But she was scratched up in the agonal stage—that’s when she was alive, but dyin’—and you know how head wounds are.”

      “Seen enough of them in ’Nam,” Wayne said sagely, and the others all nodded, even though none of them had ever seen actual combat.

      “Well, even though it wasn’t bad, I still didn’t ever see nothing like it. She was just sittin’ there, head all raked up, and palms, too. Like she was pushin’ off something fanged but gave up mighty quick. On ’count of her heart gave out, I ’spose.”

      “Could she have been startled by an animal, and that brought on the heart attack?” Winston slurped down the rest of his squaw piss, then dropped his cigarette butt into the can. A line of smoke rose out of the can, as if the squaw pictured there had taken up the peace pipe, then was quenched.

      “’Spose so. Doc Calder said she was on a toot. Enough alcohol in her blood to douse a bakery full of fruitcake. Old man threw her out, y’know.”

      “We knew, we knew. Only question was why Norm was dumb enough to marry her in the first place,” Wayne reflected around a mouthful of chips.

      “Nother question’s who called in about the body. Bib Stanley’s goin’ nuts tryin’ to figger that one out. At first, he thought whoever called it in done it,” Lenny said.

      “What was it, some guy? Inez was with half the town, at the least. Only ones I know she hadn’t fucked for sure are you, Wayne, me, and old Arnie back there,”

      “And what about me?” Winston pretended to be indignant, yet winked at Anna, who stared down at her tiny melted ice cubes.

      “Oh, you. I think there’s some kindergarten kid over in Lumbe that you haven’t diddled—isn’t that right, kiddo? You had him in school.”

      Anna looked up at Mr. Nemmitz. His green eyes were friendly, so she answered, “Mr. Winston knew better than to tangle with me. I would’ve sicced Grandma on him.” Calling the old lady Grandma gave Anna a funny taste in her mouth, as if she had just chomped down on a piece of bread and butter covered with cigarette ashes.

      “That grandmother of yours—I haven’t seen her around lately. Is she well?” Suddenly, the mood at the men’s table shifted. When old man Nemmitz turned solicitous, Anna knew she had to get her guard up.

      “Oh, she’s okay. Hasn’t been out of the house in years, but otherwise, she’s doing fine. Ma’s been taking care of her, so—”

      “You heard from your mother yet? My Bitsy, she says she talked to her before she caught the bus for Eau Claire this morning. Out by the courthouse,” Nemmitz added, as if Anna didn’t know where the weekly bus downstate parked each week. Anna swallowed down the watery rum and Coke at the bottom of her glass before answering.

      “Yeah, she got down there okay. She called before I left the house. She’s okay.”

      The other men were silent for a few seconds; even Mesabi quit his open-mouthed chewing. Anna sensed that they were waiting for her to say something, give a reason why Ma left town. No doubt they knew she hadn’t gone in to the FmHA, too. Lenny’s daughter-in-law, Heather Wilkes, used to work there, before she got knocked up again. And Heather “worshiped the great phone god,” (as Lenny himself had said many a time) as did her former co-workers.... Finally:

      “I really hate to run, but I have to get up early tomorrow. It was nice talking to you.”

      “Any time, kiddo. Just pull up a chair next time you’re in. I promise, I won’t put out my smokes in your drink.” Mr. Winston winked at her, and Anna felt like she’d just drunk down a glass of warm grease. Even though she was one of the few female EHS students who’d never done whatever it was the other girls used to do with him to get better grades in English, Anna felt a flush of guilt and shame just being around him. Bad enough she felt dirty over what her great-grandfather had done fifty-odd (or was it fifty-even?) years ago.

      As she began to push open the door, Lenny yelled behind her, “Anna, you want I should give you a lift home? It’s on my way.”

      Anna stood there, shoulder braced against the door, mulling it over. She needed to walk, to clear her head, but still, if there was something out there that caused that old bleach­-blonde barfly Inez to croak from fear—“Okay, as long as it’s not out of your way.” Lenny was safe—a big teddy bear of a guy with penny loafers and shirts that never stayed tucked in his pants. Anna doubted that he and Millie ever got it on much; Lenny seemed almost neuter, like a deballed bull. And he even blushed when Mr. Winston got raunchy. In Ewerton, that alone was proof that a guy was safe.

      * * * *

      “Here’s my house,” Anna said, as Lenny’s ten-year-old Dodge passed her next door neighbor’s house. It was the first thing she’d said since getting into the car with Lenny back at the Hinge. From the way he’d been trying to make small talk all the way from Sixth Avenue East to her house over half a mile away. Anna guessed that he’d found out that Ma hadn’t shown up for work, but little else that wasn’t already known. And that was the way Anna intended to keep it.

      Lenny played the real gentleman, stopping the car and getting out to open her door. Anna was glad that the neighbors were out, no doubt whooping it up in some bar at the city. Yahoos like the Downings and the Effertzes tended to hang out where it was okay to bay like rabid dogs and throw ice at the bartender, the better to come home honking and burning rubber come midnight.

      And Lenny didn’t pull away until after she had the key in the lock and pushed the door open. And even then, as she closed the door, she could hear his car pull very slowly away, accelerating until it reached the corner.


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