Chapter 3
1796 Words
Tuesday, July 5, 2:18 p.m.
Vinny’s recollection of what had happened at the woman’s house was hazy. He remembered breaking down a door, trying to trip himself up, and getting back into his car when it was all over, but nothing else. He also had no idea why Mort was telling him to go to his apartment to get a few essentials, enough for twenty-four hours. He loaded up on extra underwear, a T-shirt and jeans, three cans of beans and a can opener that had a built-in foldaway spoon, and a few bottles of water.
“What’s going on?”
“This is Armageddon,” Mort snapped at him. “It’s either him or me, and I’d rather it’d be him.”
“Would you elaborate?”
“No. Take your stuff and get out of here.”
“Where to?” Vinny asked when he was back in his car.
“Go someplace safe, out of town but not too far away. I need to think. Oh, and don’t even think of running. If you try to drive to Lock Haven, you’re toast.”
Vinny had been thinking about Lock Haven. One of the two girls he had dated in high school was going to college there and he’d wondered if she would help him. He didn’t know how anyone could have helped him, anyway, apart from the woman or her rock, but he hadn’t given up.
While Mort did his thinking, Vinny drove out to Bishop Street, past the woman’s house, past the high school, out to Bonfatto’s parking lot where he waited for more than half an hour in a sweltering car for Mort to make up his mind about whether to let him go inside the air-conditioned building to put something into his growling stomach. He didn’t want to open one of the cans of beans (one pinto, two kidney) he’d taken along as emergency food. Luckily he didn’t have to, because Mort let him go in.
“You’re the best friend I’ve never had,” Vinny thought at Mort in the restaurant. Bonfatto’s served alcohol and he would’ve loved to get plastered to stop Mort from using him.
“No booze.”
“Fine,” Vinny said.
He felt grateful that if the meal he was having ended up being his last, at least it would be Bonfatto’s signature Bonanza Sub.
“Count your blessings, nerd,” Mort answered his thoughts sarcastically. “You’re right, it might be your last meal. Allison and Breyer are still in full possession of their bodies and spirits. I underestimated Breyer’s strength. Be that as it may, the darkness I thrive on is eating him alive inside, and a starry-eyed near-do-well like him won’t be able to hack the dichotomy for more than a day or two.”
“Whatever you say, mate.”
“Don’t ‘mate’ me. Eat your chow, pay your bill, and get back into your car.”
“Whatever you say,” he repeated.
Vinny tried to quit thinking while he gobbled up the Bonanza Sub. Mort kept quiet for the entire eight minutes of eating, the three minutes of getting the bill and paying, the two minutes of visiting the men’s room, and the one minute of walking to his car, getting in, and starting the engine.
“Where to?” Vinny asked out loud.
“Drive to the municipal parking lot off West Howard, between North Allegheny and North Spring. Park in one of the spots in the row next to Howard Street. It’s a long-term parking area. You need to put in enough coins to get you through 5 p.m.”
“All right.”
“Quit talking to me audibly.”
“Fine,” Vinny thought.
He drove into town, pulled into the parking lot, spotted the only empty parking space along the extended-parking row, and fed the meter with a single quarter. It gave him three hours and he felt like he’d won the lottery.
“Where to?” he asked again when he had locked his car and was standing outside in the heat with the briefcase. He took his suit jacket off and draped it over his left arm.
“Walk south, through the YMCA parking area and the building.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll tell you at West High Street.”
Vinny took the exact route Mort had outlined. Resistance was futile.
“You’re almost there,” Mort said. “Cross the street. Good boy. Go into the Plaza Centre.”
“In my suit and my briefcase? This is ridiculous. People in suits don’t go into that so-called antique co-op. You want me to be remembered? The women at the cash register will remember a guy in a suit.”
“Men in suits go there all the time.”
An electric shock went through Vinny’s body and he stopped.
“Don’t stop, you i***t; keep walking. If you stop in the middle of the sidewalk for no reason, people will most certainly remember you.”
“I’m walking, see, I’m at the Plaza Centre, I’m going in, I’m walking past the old ladies behind the counter, I’m smiling at them, they smile back and nod, poor things. They have no idea who’s along for the ride in my brain.” Vinny moved forward onto the left-side aisle that slanted down. Display cases were full of old jewelry. Silverware and plates were on tables next to crocheted tablecloths. Different sellers had their areas where price tags bore three letters that told the cashiers whose items were being sold.
Vinny marched to the end of the downward slant and climbed onto the platform area at the far end of the entrance room, an area that had most likely been where the movie screen had been located in times past.
“What am I doing here, Mort?”
“Buy something, anything, take it to the front, pay for it, and I’ll tell you what happens next.”
Vinny didn’t bother to respond. He started looking around for anything he could buy without attracting too much attention. The front desk women loved to gossip. If he didn’t pick something suitably macho, he’d be the talk of the town for Lord knew how long.
“This is impossible,” he mumbled.
“Be quiet and pick something.”
“How much time are you giving me?”
“Two minutes.”
“Oh, brother.” He went down the stairs from the platform area and traveled up the slanting floor on the other walkway in the entrance room, an area that had probably been the movie theater’s seating area. When he was near the cash registers again, he took a left, went down a few steps, and arrived at the beginning of another walkway with separate vendor areas on both sides. That portion of the Plaza Centre was actually in the house that was the old theater building’s western neighbor. Because houses were plunked right next to each other in the old part of town, often without space between them, it had been easy to continue the antique mall into the next building.
He had remembered seeing all kinds of handmade lavender products in that very spot when he had visited the place last time and his memory had served him right—purple products lined the shelves of the little booth. He grabbed two bags of hard candy and hoofed it to the checkout counter.
“Good choice,” the (fake) blonde told him from the other side of the table. “I’ve been told these are really good, but I haven’t tried them myself. Your total comes to nine sixty-five.”
He handed her a credit card, she ran it through, gave him a paper to sign, and thanked him. He thanked her in return and started toward the front door.
“Go down to your left, between the tables.”
“What?”
“They’re not watching, nobody’s watching, do it!”
“You’re not serious!”
“Go, go, go!” Mort shouted inside his head.
Vinny lowered himself on all fours and scooted behind the tablecloth of one of the tables holding various types of glassware.
“Why not let me hide in one of the booths? This place is so big, there’s hundreds of places.”
“The ladies at the front have gotten into the habit of writing down descriptions of people who come in here to make sure everyone who enters also leaves. There are the security cameras, as well.”
“You could doctor those.” He was crouching down between display tables, his legs were beginning to cramp, and he hoped Mort would let him go home. “You could also make the ladies stop writing their stupid notes.”
Mort said nothing, but Vinny got a hold of a train of thought and got the impression the parasite was not as powerful as he had been before the confrontation with Breyer and Allison. Vinny also sensed Mort needed to be close to the front door.
“Hunker down, loser, because you’re going to be here for a long time. You can crawl underneath one of the tables and let the tablecloth keep you out of sight.”
Vinny crawled under a table and tried to make himself comfortable. He couldn’t sit up straight and ended up lying down on his back with his briefcase under his head.
“How long will I have to stay here?”
“Until six o’clock. The place closes at five, but people linger. I can let you take a bathroom break at six because by then everyone will have left and I can then keep the security cameras pointed elsewhere.”
“This is torture.” Most of the pain he’d woken up with had disappeared during the day’s activities, but now the soreness was creeping back into his limbs.
“This is nothing compared to what I could do to you if you don’t comply.”
Vinny kept quiet.
- Writer
