I Know What You Did Last Summer Page 12

  “I think so,” Ray said. “I’ve got an idea anyway. I think I might go into education. I’ve always been pretty good at getting ideas across to people. Back in high school I tutored the whole damned football team to keep their grades high enough so they could play. I’m sure this won’t go over well with my dad, but by now he’s faced up to the fact that his son is not going to be a professional athlete. I’m sure he’d rather see me a teacher than a gas station attendant.”

  “I never would have thought of you as a kid-lover. Teaching is—” Bud interrupted himself. “There’s your coffee.”

  There was a break in the conversation while Ray went to the counter to get his drink. Ray dumped sugar into his coffee and stirred it. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he had been talking too much to someone who, while not an enemy, was certainly not a friend. His whole purpose in having coffee with Bud Wilson was to find out more about the guy. So far he had done nothing except offer information about himself.

  Returning to the table, he tried to turn the conversation in another direction. “You said you were in the hospital,” he began. “Was that for a war injury?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” Bud closed that subject as quickly as it had been opened.

  “I’m sorry,” Ray said awkwardly.

  “That’s okay. It’s just not something I like to talk about. War is hell, Bronson.” Bud picked up his croissant and took a bite out of it. “Don’t remember who said that. Somebody famous. Somebody who’d been through it. He laid it out pretty clearly with that short statement. It’s bad enough shooting people and being shot at, but that’s the military—you tell yourself you’re there for that purpose, to kill people who are there to kill you—the army’s arranged it for you, and the good old USA is behind it, so the whole thing’s got the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval….

  “What gets to you is the kids. They don’t even know what the fighting’s about; they’re just mixed up in it because it’s happening where they live.”

  “Tough,” said Ray, inadequately. There was a moment of silence. He took a swallow of coffee and wondered why he had ordered it; the thought of consuming a whole cup of the hot liquid was more than he could handle.

  “Look,” he said, “I’ve got to be going.”

  Bud seemed surprised. “But we just sat down.”

  “I know,” Ray said. “I’ve got to make a phone call. It’s something I should have done earlier. It just slipped my mind.”

  “If it’s to Julie,” Bud said, “don’t bother. I’m taking her out tonight myself.” He smiled. It was the first time he had smiled since they had sat down together. “I’ll make you a bet about something, Bronson.”

  “What?” Ray asked.

  “I’ll bet you that Julie doesn’t go to Smith in September.”

  “You’re crazy,” Ray told him. “Of course she’s going. She’s excited about it. What do you think will hold her back?”

  “I will.” Bud made the statement with simple assurance. “She doesn’t know it yet. It’s a long three months between now and September.”

  “You’re crazy,” Ray said again as he got to his feet. “Julie isn’t ready to settle down with anybody. She’s not even eighteen yet. She’s not going to stay in this town for you or for me or for anyone else.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Bud raised his hand in a friendly gesture of farewell. “It was good talking with you, Bronson. I’ll be seeing you around.”

  “Sure,” Ray said. “Be seeing you.”

  He stopped to leave a tip at the counter and then stepped out onto the sidewalk. He took out his cell, and punched in Julie’s number. His call rang and rang, then went into voicemail. “It’s me,” he said and clicked the “off ” button, feeling unreasonably angry. Who could Julie be talking to this early in the afternoon? She had just left her school friends; there was nothing she would need to call them about. Or was the phone just turned off? If so, why? He assumed that she would have been eagerly waiting for him to call with the results of his talk with Barry.

  His reaction was unreasonable, and he knew it. Julie had no idea that he was going to try to see Barry today or that he would be trying to call her. Whom she talked to after school was her own business, just as it was her own business with whom she went out in the evenings.

  Except for this guy, Ray told himself helplessly. I don’t want her going out with him. The conversation with Bud had shaken him more than he ever would have anticipated. Up until now he had been thinking of him as kind of a rebound guy—a nerdish type character whose sole function was to fill in some time for Julie and give her ammunition to use when her mother got on her case about the fact that she wasn’t dating.

  Now, suddenly, he saw him differently. Bud was quiet, but far from dull, with a seriousness and intensity that a sensitive girl like Julie could find appealing. Even the difference in their ages no longer seemed to Ray to be in his own favor. Bud mightbe three or four years older, but he was definitely not over-the-hill in any sense. He had the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted.

  And apparently what he wanted was Julie. Well, he’s not going to get her, Ray assured himself. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  He walked back along the street to the spot where he had parked his father’s car. He got into it and started the engine. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice another car that pulled into the lane behind him and followed him at a slight distance the whole way home.

  CHAPTER 15

  Helen had just started down to the pool when she heard the muffled sound of the telephone ringing inside her apartment.

  “You go on down,” she told Collie, who was walking beside her. “It might be about Barry.”

  She let herself back into the apartment and caught the phone on its sixth ring.

  “Glad you answered. I was about ready to hang up.” Ray’s voice through the receiver sounded thin and far away. “I’ve got some good news for you. I saw Barry this afternoon, and he says the motive for the shooting was robbery. It didn’t have anything to do with last summer. It was just some freak out to get cash.”

  “You saw Barry!” Helen’s mind went no further than the initial statement. “But, how could you? You’re not a relative!”

  “I didn’t claim to be. I sneaked up the back stairs between visiting hours,” Ray said. “Did you understand what I just told you about the shooting?”

  “Yes, of course.” Helen’s hand tightened on the receiver. “How is he, Ray? How did he look? Did he mention me at all?”

  “I didn’t talk to him very long,” Ray said. “He didn’t look great, but who would the day after a bullet’s dug out of his back? He was plenty lucid though. He knew what he was saying.”

  “Do you think I could get in to see him too?” Helen asked him. “If I went up the way you did?”

  “Look, Helen, I wouldn’t try it.” There was an odd note in Ray’s voice. “He’s feeling pretty down right now and isn’t exactly in the mood for visitors even if the doctors would permit it. You’d be wiser to wait until he’s feeling better.”

  “But if he was glad to see you—” Helen began.

  “He wasn’t. And he wouldn’t be to see you either. Believe me, Helen, I know what I’m talking about. He’s depressed. Let him be for a while, okay?”

  “Okay, Ray. Thanks for calling. Have you told Julie?”

  “I haven’t been able to get hold of her yet,” Ray said. “But I’m trying.”

  “Well, thanks again,” Helen told him. “It’s good to know the rest of us don’t have to worry about getting shot at.”

  She hung up the phone with a sigh of mingled relief and frustration.

  The idea that Barry might not want to see her was, of course, ridiculous—too ridiculous even to argue about. If Barry was feeling depressed it was exactly the time when he needed to see her the most. There would be no sense in trying to go over to the hospital tonight when his parents were sure to be there, but she would certain
ly do so first thing in the morning.

  As for the motive of robbery for the attack on Barry, well that settled once and for all the question of breaking the pact. She knew that as long as she lived she would never forgive Ray for making that suggestion. The fact that he would even consider going to the police without clearing the move with Barry first showed how little honor he had for an agreement.

  Suppose he had done it, she thought now. Suppose he had just gone ahead and done it without even talking to Barry! He would have ruined Barry’s whole life for no reason at all.

  She had tossed her towel onto the chair beneath the wall phone. Now she picked it up and started back across the room to the door. She stepped through it, hesitated a moment, and then pulled it closed without locking it.

  “Terror time’s over,” she said aloud.

  The words had a good ring to them, and she realized suddenly, as she said them, that she had been frightened. Not frightened enough to agree to break the pact, but good and nervous. Well, that part’s over, thank god, she thought as she walked along the balcony and down the steps to the pool.

  Collie was standing by one of the deck chairs, chatting with the prettier of the two schoolteachers from Apartment 213. Actually, it was the girl who was doing the talking. Collie was giving her polite attention, but his eyes flicked immediately to Helen when she appeared on the stairs and did not leave her as she came across to join them.

  “Hi,” he said. “Important call?”

  “A report on Barry. A friend of his crashed the guard and got in to see him this afternoon. He was phoning to tell me about him.”

  “How is poor Barry?” the schoolteacher asked. She gave Collie an innocent smile. “Barry Cox is Helen’s boyfriend and a total hottie. It’s no wonder she doesn’t have eyes for anybody else, right, Helen?”

  “Right,” Helen said agreeably. “And he’s better, thank you. He’s going to be just fine.”

  “Good news,” Collie said. “Come on. I’ll race you the length of the pool.”

  He dove in ahead of her and, standing by the pool’s edge, Helen watched him swim, using long, powerful strokes as though to work off a fit of anger.

  The schoolteacher got up from her chair and came over to stand beside her.

  “You’re a glutton,” she said, and the light little laugh that was supposed to take the venom from the statement was forced. “You’re not playing fair.”

  Helen turned to her in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “How many guys do you need, one for every day of the week?” The girl nodded toward Collie, who already had nearly completed the length of the pool. “You’ve got your beloved Barry. Leave something for the rest of us!”

  “Oh, Collie’s just a friend,” Helen said.

  “Does he know that?”

  “Of course! He was the one who drove me down to the hospital the night Barry was shot. He knows all about him.”

  “I don’t care what he knows,” the girl said shortly. “He hasn’t looked at anyone but you since the day he arrived. The rest of us girls haven’t been able to get so much as a conversation going with him. He’s polite enough, but he looks right through us as though his mind were somewhere else entirely. If you must know—” she laughed again, this time with real amusement, “I’ve gotten a lot more of a reaction from Barry than I have from this guy.”

  “Barry’s nice to everybody,” Helen said coolly. Turning her back upon the girl, she dove into the water.

  The shock of the cold water jolted her into frenzied motion. Like Collie before her, she began to swim with fast, strong strokes to work off her fury. After a moment she felt calmer and turned onto her back to look at the girl behind her. She had turned away from the pool now and was returning to her deck chair.

  Jealous, Helen thought, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She had accepted long ago the fact that she would have no real girlfriends at the Four Seasons. This knowledge did not particularly upset her, because she had never been a person to have girls as friends anyway. Even back in high school, the only person she had ever really considered a friend was Julie.

  Even that had not been a friendship such as most girls had. Most of Julie’s time had been tied up with clubs and cheerleading and other after-school activities. Their relationship had not been based so much upon their own personalities as upon the fact that the boys they dated hung out together.

  Still, it had been Julie whom she had taken home with her to show off her prom dress, and it was to her that Elsa had blabbed the bit about the dress having come from a thrift shop. Julie had been gracious about that, and as far as Helen knew, she had never mentioned it to anyone. It was the sort of disclosure that the girls from Four Seasons would have leapt at likehungry wolves. She could hear it in her mind’s ear, being jabbered up the line from apartment to apartment: “Do you know where Helen Rivers buys her dresses?”

  Well, she didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing any longer. Helen permitted herself a smile of satisfaction. Let the little bitches rake her over the coals just as long as the raking was inspired by jealousy. Nobody minded being considered too beautiful or too successful or too lucky. If those were the things they were going to pounce on, let them pounce. No matter what they said, they took vicarious pleasure in the fact that Channel Five’s Future Star lived here among them, spilling some of the glamour of her own life over into their dull ones. Nobody could look at the way she dressed now and make any comments about trips to the thrift shop.

  The move into the apartment had been the grandest event of her life. Even Elsa had been impressed and had shown it.

  “How about our moving in together?” she had suggested in a rare moment of sisterly friendliness. “I could chip in for part of the rent, and we could take turns doing the cooking and stuff.”

  The suggestion was so preposterous that for a moment Helen had been too stunned to answer.

  “Oh, no!” she had said at last. And then, seeing her mother’s concerned face framed in the kitchen doorway, had added quickly, “I’m going to rent a one-bedroom. I’ll be keeping all kinds of funny hours, and I’ll need to sleep in the mornings. Besides, we can’t both leave home at once. Who would be here to help Mom with the children?”

  “Don’t you worry, Elsa,” their mother had said, coming into the room to put an arm around her older daughter’s plump shoulders. “Helen will be right here in town. She can come home to see us whenever she wants to. And your time will come too. All little birds fly the nest.”

  The glitter of envy in her sister’s eyes had filled Helen with a sense of half-guilty satisfaction.

  “You couldn’t afford it anyway, Elsa,” she had said. “I’m going to take an apartment at the Four Seasons, and the rents there are astronomical.”

  And I did it, she thought now, beginning to move her arms in a slow backstroke. I’m here, right where I said I’d be.

  The Four Seasons was the first apartment complex she had looked at, and the moment she had seen it, shining like some special fairyland with the pool, the bright beds of flowers, the wooden balconies, the gregarious crowd of moneyed, young singles who lived there, she had known that this was the culmination of her dreams.

  “Barry will love it,” she had told herself, and she had been right. The incredulous expression on his face the first time she had shown him into the blue and lavender apartment had been enough to erase any shadows cast by Elsa’s cruel comments.

  “So this is how a Future Star lives!” he had commented, and though the remark had been made half-teasingly, there had been a look of renewed interest in his eyes. Helen Rivers might not have social background or a lot of education, but she certainly wasn’t a nothing.

  Now she paddled leisurely to the end of the pool where Collie was waiting for her. He had pulled himself up onto the edge and was sitting there dripping, his brown hair plastered over his forehead.

  He said, “You are without doubt the laziest swimmer I’ve ever seen.”

  “Wel
l, it’s a long pool.”

  She smiled up at him, knowing how well her wet hair framed the shape of her face. She knew too how she looked in the tiny, blue bikini—better than the schoolteacher at the far side of the pool and better by a long shot than any of the other girls who lived in the building. Of course, she was Barry’s girlfriend, that was understood. But it didn’t hurt anything at all to have somebody else admire her.

  “You’ll have to watch the news tonight,” she said, “and see if I was able to get my hair dry.”

  “I won’t be watching TV tonight.” Collie’s dark eyes regarded her without amusement. He made no effort to reach down and draw her up on the ledge beside him. “I’m going to be busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I’ve got a date.”

  “You have?” She could not keep the surprise from her voice. “How could you? I mean, I didn’t think you were seeing anybody.”

  “You thought I’d have fun eating my heart out while you mooned over your battered lover?” The words were light, but there was something in the tone that was not.

  “No, of course not.” Helen felt herself flushing with embarrassment. Hadn’t that, actually, been exactly what she had thought? “What I meant was, I didn’t know you had met anybody yet. After all, you just moved in here less than a week ago.”

  “There are other girls in the world besides the ones at Four Seasons,” Collie told her. “This particular girl I’m seeing tonight is one I knew before I ever met you.”

  “Oh,” Helen said awkwardly. “I didn’t realize.”

  “You don’t realize a lot of things,” Collie said quietly. “You don’t know what I do when I’m not with you, or where I come from, or what I’m interested in, or what I think about, or what courses I’m planning to take this summer. You don’t know where I’ve worked, or how I live, or who the people are that I care about. You haven’t been interested enough to ask. Everything we’ve ever talked about since the day we met has been you. And, of course, your wonderful Barry.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Helen said weakly. “But you don’t have to make me sound so…so self-centered.”