A Difficult Autumn


by Jeffrey Allen White


Chapter 1

Deep, ever-pounding pain erupts. Somewhere deep inside, pain is revealed through flashes of sharp arcs of pulsating torture. It started out dull and then began to keep time with his own pulse like a metronome ticking in time. Unyielding, it grew stronger and stronger, never letting up and going from not too dull to severe agony step by agonizing step. Each beat of the metronome’s stick made it hurt more and more. He sunk his head into his pillow, almost drowning himself into unconsciousness. His eyes rolling back insides their lids, giving him a headache like it could not hurt any more, but I did. He reached for his mouth and his hand touched his swollen, inflamed cheek. He yelled with pain, the pain was a toothache, a toothache as if he needed another hole in his head or another ex-wife. To him they were the same. Pulling the covers over his raging jaw did nothing. He could not hide, he could not even move into a position that seemed to give him just a bit of ease. “How long has it been happening?” he thought to himself. He could not remember much about last night other than he played cards with the guys and he had a little too much to drink as per usual. He pulled himself to sit upright, the pain reeling through him like a thousand nails scratching a chalkboard. Sitting up he carefully wiped the sleep from his face and stood trying not to fall over. Now the hangover was vying for the title with the toothache. Both in a diffused harmony playing a double metronome symphony of pure hell. Moving to the bathroom, he groped to find the sink and mirror and turned on the water to splash on his face. “Ouch, that hurt!” he yelled forgetting the soreness of his jaw and letting his hangover move a beat ahead.

Opening his eyes, he squinted to see himself through the intense banging of the tympani that has now entered the symphony of pain. His name was Tom Shepherd or Shep as his peers called him. It was October 1948, a bit warm for this time of year. Shep leaned in, looked at his thirty-eight-year-old face with the swollen jaw, and opened his mouth to see where the pain was coming from. He could see he had a broken molar on the side and the tissue around it was hot, red and angry, like a wasp that you missed on the first two swipes.

Out of nowhere, his head exploded into a battlefield of blinding bassoons. A piercing shrill went through him as if he were a paper cut on tender skin. The noise came again, Shep realized it was the phone and he ran back to his bed to get it before it shot through his brain one more time. Falling on the bed, he grabbed the phone and just about passed out from all the pain and movement. He managed to get the phone to his ear at least and could hear a voice talking on the other side. It was a woman’s voice, he was sure of that. Only a shrill woman’s voice could hurt him even more than he was hurting already.

Shep could understand every other word. The woman was speaking intense. She was almost shouting. “Hello, Mr. Shepherd? Is this Mr. Shepherd?” the woman asked with as much intensity as his hangover and toothache. “Is this Mr. Shepherd, please?”

The woman was upset. Not as upset as Shep felt as his tooth hurt as he bit down to talk. “Hello, this Is Tom Shepherd,“ he answered. The woman continue to speak now frantically and without pausing between words.

“Oh, Mr. Shepherd, I need your help. Please. I need you to come…,” she yelled into the phone hurting his already exploding head and jaw.

Wait a minute lady, first, you’re gonna slow down and then your gonna tell me who you are.” Shep was now trying to head off his pain and get some sense of what she was saying. “How can I help you…? Miss…?” he was cut off.

“It is Mrs. Irene Manning. Please Mr. Shepherd, I need your help,” she repeated herself yet again. “I need to see you,” she was crying now.

“All right, Mrs. Manning, was it?” Shep used all his energy to sit up and concentrate on what was happening. He reached for some aspirin and swallowed them from the bottle he kept on the nightstand next to his bed. A sip of last night’s old, muddy coffee help washed it down, hitting his tooth and making it again hurt violently. He fell back onto his bed, trying to hold the phone to his ear and with his other hand held his pounding cheek. “Now Mrs. Manning, what is the problem? How can I help you?” He felt he was more in control now.

“Oh, you see Mr. Shepherd; I am in trouble, a lot of trouble. I am so afraid. I do not know whom to turn to. I received your card from a bulletin board at Betty’s Café,” offering him some information.

“Betty’s Café?” he thought to himself. “It shows you that you have to advertise.” he smiled and his mouth pulled and gave him another sharp pain. “Let’s start at the beginning Mrs. Manning,“ he was now standing.

Please call me Irene, Mr. Shepherd,“ she offered. “I don’t know who to turn to; I don’t know what to do? I am so afraid,” she started crying again.

“We will not get anywhere if I do not understand you, Mrs.… I mean Irene. Please calm down.” Shep thought to himself and asked, “Where can I meet you? I can meet you anywhere,” he now started to wash up and starts to shave his two-day growth. He held the phone with one ear as he took his razor to his face. Shep could hear her crying less now and hoped that if he were calm she would try to be also.

“I need to see you now, Mr. Shepherd, anywhere. I can be anywhere you say. Just tell me and I will be there.” Irene was more composed now and seemed to speak slower. “I am sorry, Mr. Shepherd, I am just so afraid…” she trailed off.

Maneuvering the razor around his sore jaw, “I understand that, now let’s say we meet at Betty’s Cafe in ten minutes,” he thought since his card was on the bulletin board there he might as well patronize the café. “Look I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He winced as he cut himself with his razor. “What are you wearing so I know who it is?” he asked blotting the blood that dripped from the cut.

Irene thought for a moment and said very calmly, “... a peach suit with a white hat,” the phone went dead as Irene hung up. The quick thud of the receiver made him wince in pain. He walked into his kitchen and searched for something in the cabinet. Pushing bottles around him found some rum in a bottle. He opened it throwing off the cap with one hand and took a swig washing it around his mouth hoping to dull his toothache and maybe settle his hangover. He threw the empty bottle in the trash as he gathered up a shirt, pants and tie. He sat down to tie his shoes.

“What’s this broads’s problem?” he said softly to himself. Tying his tie, he remembers last night and the card game. He had been playing with the same guys he always played with almost weekly over at Jim’s Garage. They met in the back after hours. Joe Bowers owned the place; there was no Jim . Well, not now anymore. Jim Tomak died ten years earlier and Joe had worked for him. When he bought the place form Jim‘s widow for three-thousand dollars, she took it and signed it over without batting an eye. She needed the money more than a husband. Joe was a good guy. He was in his early forties and short. He had a tight haircut and he was muscular. Joe’s brother Kip also played.

Kip Bowers was a cop, just a plain cop walking a beat. He was younger than Joe was by eighteen months but was married and had four kids. His wife Agnes worked part time at Hasten’s Market and they managed to live in a little house over on Delaney’s Place across from the Mayer’s Box Factory. Kip and Joe spent many weekends and nights fixing the little house up. Agnes did her thing with the decorating but it was Joe, Kip who did the remodeling that was needed, and the plumbing and electric that was outdated. The house was seventy years old already and it took the two brothers a year to get it in top shape. The neighborhood was zoned for both residential and business so there were houses between shops and offices. Kip was able to get a mortgage on it and with four bedrooms; it was just right for him, Agnes, and the kids even if the neighborhood was not on the best side of town.

Mikey De Stefano also played cards with them; Mikey was a retired semi-pro ball player from Iowa. Twenty years ago, he played for several triple A teams never really getting to the big leagues before he blew his arm out pitching a game when he just turned forty. Now sixty-one, Mikey was retired as he also worked for the post office and was able to get a good deal after twenty years on the route. He walked miles and miles everyday and other than his arm, acting up when it rained and the leather sack was heavy with Sear’s catalogues; he was in good shape for his age. He never smoke or drank, that is to always being in training for baseball. Mikey lived in the house around the corner from Kip. Actually, he could cut through his back yard through Kip’s when he needed to. This was Mikey’s route too and he has to know Kip and Agnes well over the years. Mikey liked to play cards but always had a limit. He never bought in for more when he was down. Once he was out, he was out. He would sit and talk the rest of the games, even though he did not drink, he did like root beer, and as long as Joe had Root Beer, Mikey would stay. He won about a quarter of the time and that was good enough for Mikey. Mikey’s wife Elmira died fourteen years ago from influenza. They never had any kids. They wanted to but Elmira was always on the sickly side and they just never had any kids. Mikey liked kids though and would play ball in the street with the neighborhood bunch after school. He even helped two teens get scholarships into colleges as he helped them to apply for it and they were both accepted. Mikey was proud of them as if they were his own boys. He had pictures of them all over his house. When they were young, in school, prom dates and even when they were married. Mikey was there proud as ever. The two boys, now men treated him with respect and held him in high regard. Mikey even had pictures so them and their respective families in his wallet and would show them off every chance he got.

Shep was driving now as he made his way to Betty’s Café. It was just ten miles across town and with no traffic, he would make it in ten minutes. Shep passed his office on West Haven. He had his Private Eye for Hire office there for seems like thirteen years. It was small and had a private office with a front room for his secretary receptionist, Maureen. Maureen had been with Shep for nine years. Replacing Helen who went and got herself pregnant and had to move to Oswego with the bum else he‘d run out on her. Maureen was the best; she kept Shep up to date with all his appointments and always was great with the clients. Even the assholes that came in occasionally and hassled her. As sweet as she looked and she was sweet, she could also handle just about anybody and anything. Maureen was seeing this person named Chuck who drove for Hasten’s Market. However, it was an on-again off-again relationship. Chuck liked to drink and that was a problem for Maureen. She had 6 brothers but they all were good men and that‘s what she was looking for. She was thirty-two years old but looks twenty-five years old and that always made her happy. If Chuck did not straighten up by the holidays, Maureen was going to call it quits for good. She had many chances of finding Mr. Right and turned down many fellows just to be with Mr. Not So Right Chuck. Shep could see Maureen’s 1946 gold colored sedan parked on the side as he turned past onto Peach Street.

“Peach Street.” Shep thought, “That’s the color that Manning woman said she’d be wearing.” He could have asked her hair color or what car she drove for recognition but what she was wearing was the first thing that popped up into his head. He was now pulling up to Betty’s Cafe. The morning crowd was there. He would be lucky to get a stool at the counter between two fat truck drivers, but two stools at all seemed a long shot. He parked his car and walked into the café adjusting his tie. Looking around he scanned the busy joint and saw the servers and the cooks and Mrs. Belvin, the cashier. He turned to her. “Good Morning, Mrs. Belvin.," he winked and said with a smile.

Mrs. Belvin looked at him and then over at the booth near the rest rooms in the back and then back at him. “She’s been there waiting for you Shep. Look like she has been crying. You been bad to her honey?” Mrs. Belvin was the motherly type and could get away with saying what she wanted.

Shep looked over the woman sitting alone in the booth and nodded thank you to Mrs. Belvin. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars, and handed them to her. “Here buy yourself something," as he handed it to her.

Mrs. Belvin smiled and took the money putting it into her cleavature. Looking around as if to see what others were noticing. “I’ll send some coffee over,” she said as she walked into the back.

Shep walked over to the booth and stood before Mrs. Manning. She was a nice looking woman, even perhaps beautiful maybe a couple of years ago. Her crying did not help and it made her eyes puffy and aged her a little. He thought to himself that she was a nice looking doll though and had a great shape for what he could see. Her peach colored suit was nice and crisp and she had her white hat draped over her left eye. “Mrs. Manning, I presume?“

Oh, Please sit, Mr. Shepherd,” she looked around anxiously and tried to compose what she would say. “Thank you for coming on such short notice Mr. Shepherd.," she has taking off her gloves and putting them into her purse. She paused for a moment.

Well for starters, call me Shep,” he sat down across from her. He noticed her hands were very nice looking and was younger than he had first thought. “Now what can I do to help you Mrs. Manning?” He could see she was indeed more beautiful and younger than he first presumed. She was polished and poised and she had the build a woman should have. Shepherd kept his eyes on her and he got in the booth.

Irene looked around the room as to see if anyone were listening not even noticing the eyeing she was getting from Shep. She leaned in to Shep. “I am so afraid, I had no one to turn to, no one I could call for help,” as she moistened her lips which were full and lush. “I am terrified. And I don’t know where to go.” she started to cry a little.

Shep reached for her hands and touched it feeling the softness and the delicacy of them. This was no homemaker, he though, She had class and did not seem to do any menial labor. He looked at her clothing again and could see they were smart and expensive. “Let’s say we start from the beginning, tell me what has happened to make you so… frightened.” he turned his head around to see if others were watching them.

She began,”… you see, Mr. Shepherd, I had nowhere to turn. I was alone and well I never thought I would need help especially from…” she hesitated

“…from a private eye?” he finished.

“Yes, a private investigator,“ she calmed herself and sat up straight. “You see, Mr. Shepherd, I… I think that, I think that I might have…” she held back a title. Shep waited and studied her, “… killed someone,” she finished.

Shep tried to not look surprised but he was surprised. He was outright thrown overboard with that statement. “Killed someone? Who? Who do you think you might have killed?” he asked calmly still holding her hands and speaking very quietly.

Irene pulled her hands away and turned to look out the window. “It was a man, Mr. Shepherd, a man named Horace Manning. I had been married to him and…” she turned back to Shep, “and it is this man I think I might have killed.”

Shep was perplexed but did not show it or at least tried not to show it. “This Horace Manning, how exactly did you ….end his life.” he tried to make it sound more pleasant as of he could.

Irene starred at Shep. “I think I might have killed him with a gun. She confessed.

“A gun” he retorted “Was it or wasn’t it a gun Mrs. Manning? Don’t you know? Where you drinking or driving or…“, he was cut off.

“No, no, none of that. It was a gun, my ex-husbands gun. I have it here in my purse,” she started to open it as Shep abruptly pushed it closed. “Wait a minute lady, don’t be opening up and showing off any pistols in this place. We’ll have a mob.” Shep composed himself. “Just move your purse over to me and I will look into it.”

Irene pushed the purse over reluctantly; it was my ex-husband’s gun. He left it in our home when we divorced.” Irene felt more reassuring.

Shep opened the purse to his side, looked in it, and saw the gun, a thirty-eight caliber. He could make out the odor of gunpowder and knew it had been fired recently. He took the gun from the purse and put it into his jacket pocket. Irene looked surprised. “Just wait a minute; I want to check it out. I’ll just hold it for you.”

Irene took her purse back after reaching in a getting a handkerchief to wipe her nose. “Excuse me Mr. Shepherd; it’s just that I never shot anyone before.”

“Had she just said that?“ Shep said to himself, as he had to hold his face still. He wanted to laugh but thought it would be impolite to say the least. He questioned her again. “What happened?” Tell me from the beginning. I want to know everything.” Shep pulled out a small notebook and worn pencil and began to write.

Irene was not sure what he was doing but went on from the beginning as he had asked. : You see, Mr. Shepherd, I was married to Horace for 8 years and then we divorced two years ago. I caught him having an affair with a young girl from his agency. He was in marketing and she was in the steno pool. I had suspected something but was not sure until one night when I found her number written on a piece of paper and called. I cannot tell you how shocked I was when I heard Horace on the other side. He had answered the phone. She could hear him saying that he would “get the phone, darling," when she realized she had caught him red handed. “That night I left and filed for divorce the next day. Horace did not return that day or the next and a week later, he had sent some men to pick up his clothing and effects. I had already had them packed and waiting.” She explained.

Shep could see this woman was set and was in control of her emotions and thoughts now. She had packed his belongings and had them ready for him or anyone to pick up. This was not an hysterical woman who was not in control or afraid even. “Did
you see him again.

“No, not until we were in court for the divorce and we said nothing to each other. He did not even look at me and offer any explanation. He was there and then he was not.” Irene wiped her nose again. “After six months, I had heard he broke up with that steno girl and I was happy if you can say that. I did not speak with him again until just last week. Almost two years later. We had gone our separate ways and I received the house and some money and I receive alimony of course“.

Shep jumped in, ”So when did you see him again? Did he call you? Did you call him? What had happened for him to contact you after two years?“ Shep wrote as he spoke as they drank their coffee.

Irene sipped the coffee. “Horace had telephoned me late one night. I was just going to bed after a long day out with my sister and he called.

“At first, there was no one on the phone and then I heard his voice.”

He said, “Are you there, Irene?”

I knew it was Horace. I mean I know my husbands’… I mean ex-husband’s voice as if it were my own,” she took another small sip. “He asked me if I were alone again. I said yes before I thought of it and I felt uneasy.”

“Uneasy” Shep wondered her use of words.

“Yes, his voice he seemed so distant. In addition, out of the blue after almost two years. He asked if I were alone and foolishly, I said yes. He said he would be right over and he hung up the phone. I was shaken and afraid of why he was coming over and at that hour. I called my sister who also lives in my building and she came right up to be with me. When she got there. I told her what had happened and I was afraid and did not want to be alone when he got there. She said I was absolutely mad for even acknowledging him and letting him invite himself over. She never liked him; my sister Eileen never liked him even when we were married. She said he made her feel awkward and she could not stand to be alone with him. She would never be alone with him and made sure of that. She was fine if I were there.” Irene finished her coffee. Shep motioned for another two coups to be brought over.

“It was around eleven-thirty, when he arrived. He ranged the bell, and Eileen and I just sat there for a moment looking at one another. We could not move. When he rang, again I got up and answered the door. It was Horace and he asked to come in. When he entered the room, he saw Eileen and asked why she was there? I said she was visiting. He seemed anxious and even a little mad that she was there. Eileen sat and said nothing. She just sat there as we talked. Horace put his hat, coat on the chair, and asked to sit. He sat on the chair across from the sofa from where Eileen and I were sitting. I asked him what he had wanted and he did not say anything. I pressed him about it and he said he needed to speak with me about something important. Important? I said to him. What could be so important after two years?

We were no longer in touch; there was no need to know of each other’s lives. I started to cry and Eileen stood and told Horace to get out. Horace started to yell at Eileen and he stood up as if to hit her. I called out to him and he froze still in his step not moving. Eileen also was like a statue not moving. He looked at her like she were dirt and his face was that of someone filled with hate. Eileen told him to go and finally he got his hat and coat and left. As he got to the door, he told me that he would call me again and that it would be in my best interest to talk to him and alone. He closed the door. Eileen jumped up and locked the door behind him. I was crying and fell to the sofa. Eileen comforted me and she stayed all night. We did not talk much. What could either of us say? It was an unpleasant evening and we both wanted to just get over it and forget it.

”After Horace left did you see him again?” Shep laughed to himself because she had to have seen him again if she had killed him. “Did he contact you again?”

“The coffee arrived and Irene sipped it long and slow. It was a week later and I was out doing errands. I was just coming out of the post office and I walked right into him. It was if he were waiting for me there to come out. I was startled and started to run. He grabbed my arm and asked me to please wait and talk to him. I said I could not and why doesn’t he just leave me alone? I tried to get away. People were noticing us now and he let go. I told him I did not ever want to talk to him or see him again and I said I would call the police if he continued. I was upset and I went straight to Eileen’s," Irene was losing her calmness.

“Eileen comforted me and told me to call the police. Nevertheless, what proof did I have after all he just wanted to talk to me? They would think I am a crazy woman if I had any suspicions or fears. I stayed with Eileen that night, in the morning awoke, and walked into the kitchen in one of her robes. I called for Eileen but she did not answer. I searched the entire apartment and she was not there but I looked for a note and there was not anything. I looked outside and even went down to the street after getting dressed back in my apartment. I stopped again at Eileen’s but she still was not to be found. So I went back up to my apartment and locked myself in wondering where Eileen had gone without telling me.”

“Did she seem upset the night before?” Shep wanted to know trying to put things together.

“No, she was there to comfort me and I did not see any thing wrong with her. After an hour or two, I felt very alone and I was starting to become even more afraid. Afraid of where Horace might be and where Eileen was? I started to panic when I remembered I still had Horace’s gun in my closet in one of my hatboxes. I went to get the gun. I do not know why, just for security, for protection. I felt I needed something to protect me.”

“From Horace? Was it Horace who made you so afraid of what he would do or what he wanted to talk to you about?” Shepherd took a sip of coffee.

Irene held onto her purse and said. “I am not sure of which or if it were both those reasons. Whatever reason it was though I was now terrified that Horace was coming after me. Moreover, with Eileen not around I had no one and nowhere to turn to. I held on to the gun as I walked into the living room. As I walked into the room, I noticed the curtains flowing in the breeze from the terrace door. I did not leave the terrace door open. I am sure of it, became very frightened, and backed up and into a tall bookcase. Something in the shelf fell and hit me on the head and I felt I was starting to pass out as I heard the gun go off in my hand," Irene stared frozen as she spoke.

Now Shepherd was looking at Irene and giving him every ouch of his attention. He had forgotten his hangover and his tooth ached was just a dull throb every now and again. “What happened when you fell, did you shoot someone, and was it Horace?” Shep was firm with her now.

“Yes, no… I do not know. I saw someone. You see I must have been knocked out form a falling object and the gun went off in my hands. I saw someone standing in front on me. I don’t remember anything else, I swear it,” Irene started crying and people starting looking at them. Mrs. Belvin looked over at Shep and gave him a look of concern.

“Look, let’s get out of here. We can go to my office. People are starting to get too nosey.” Shep stood and laid out some cash on the table as he took Irene’s hand. She grabbed her purse and together they left the Café and went to his car.

“But my car,” Irene questioned.

”Leave it, I’ll pick it up later, let’s just get you off the street into my office so we can go over this again.” Shep helped Irene into his car and she leaned over to open his door lock as he got in. He took out the key and started the car and they drove to his office.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.01.2011

Alle Rechte vorbehalten