Pretty Girl Gone (Mac McKenzie #3)

Pretty Girl Gone (Mac McKenzie #3) Page 53

“I can’t.”

At that moment, Jace appeared. She set the platter of roast beef and garlic roasted mashed potatoes in front of him.

“Here ya go, Mr. Bloom.”

Bloom stared at the food for a moment, then at the girl. Jace patted his arm and Bloom recoiled in fear.

“No, no, you’re not Beth. You can’t be Beth. Oh, Jesus.”

Bloom hid his face in his hands. Jace set her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Mr. Bloom? Mr. Bloom? It’s all right, Mr. Bloom. You have friends here.”

Bloom dropped his hands from his eyes and looked hard at her.

He said, “You ain’t her. Little girl all shiny and new, ain’t got no scratches on you yet. Like you was, like you was—You ain’t pretty like her, you know. You think you are, but you ain’t. She was made of pure gold.”

“Are you talking about Elizabeth?” I asked.

“She was—perfect. I woulda done anything for her. Anything.”

“Mr. Bloom?” I said.

Bloom drowned a sob with the rest of his beer. When he finished, Jace took the glass from his hand. She looked at me then like she wanted to slap me. Jace gathered the shot and beer glasses onto her tray and took them away.

I leaned halfway across the table.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Bloom.”

“Yes.”

“What happened that night?” I asked.

“I don’t remember,” he answered.

The glaze in his eyes seemed to extend over Bloom’s entire body. He slumped down and buried his head in his arms. I slid the roast beef clear.

“Mr. Bloom?” I nudged him. “Mr. Bloom?” I gave him a hard push.

A moment later, Jace returned.

“He’s asleep,” I told her.

She looked at the drunk with compassionate disapproval.

“Poor Mr. Bloom,” Jace said. “He drinks like this because—because he’s sad, I guess. The world isn’t what he wants it to be. But he’ll be all right. He’ll find what he needs.”

What a wonderful young woman, my inner voice told me. She possessed such faith in human nature. I hoped she’d never lose it. But given her clandestine relationship with a Hispanic boyfriend in a racist town, I figured she probably would. You should have given her a bigger tip.

Jace fetched her father.

“I’ll take care of him,” he announced. It was the first time I had heard him speak quietly. “I wish you wouldn’t have bought him drinks.”

“So do I,” I said.

“I’ll take him home.”

“Where does he live? I could drive.”

“He’s got a place near the fairgrounds. But I’ll take care of him. You’ve done enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hell, McKenzie. We’re all sorry.”

9

Snow was settling gently over Victoria by the time I left Nick’s Family Restaurant. Over two inches of it had gathered on the ground, hiding all that was unpleasant and ugly and vile, painting the city in gleaming white.

I raised my eyes to the sky, closed them, and let the large flakes settle on my face; I opened my mouth and tried to catch them on my tongue. One of the things about fresh snow is its flavor. There is a goodness in it that you simply can’t taste in any other season. It called to mind memories of long ago tobogganing on the steep hills at the Town and Country Golf Course, watching the Winter Carnival parade, ice fishing on Lake Mille Lacs.

Another thing I like about falling snow is how completely it absorbs sound, how silent it renders even the most intense traffic. It was because of the snow that I didn’t hear them approach.

“You still here, shithead?”

He sounded so close that I thought he had shouted in my ear. Yet when I opened my eyes, I saw that Gene Hugoson stood several feet away. Brian Reif was on his left.

“It’s the Victoria nightlife,” I said. “I can’t get enough of it.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Hugoson wanted to know.

“Sounds like a plan.” I tried to retreat down the sidewalk. Hugoson cut me off. I slowly pivoted until the men stood at about forty-five-degree angles to my left and right. I tried to keep my eyes on both of them at the same time as they moved closer.

“Why are you guys so angry?” I asked. “What’d I do?”

“We don’t like you, bitch,” Reif said.

The slur was a definitely a notch above the insult Hugoson had hurled at me, but I didn’t like it any better.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said.

All the warning signs were there: Attack Is Imminent. They didn’t even bother with the first stages. My muscles tensed.

“C’mon fellas,” I said. “Can’t we all just get along?”

“We ain’t a couple of kids on the sidewalk,” Reif hissed at me.

Hugoson was the closest, so I cheated to my left, waited for him to make a move.