The funny thing about inevitability was that you couldn't avoid it. Balthazar had too many reasons now to think avoiding his visit, his last visit, with Frederick Mueller, the man known as Ratbeard, was even a possibility. He sat in his car a block away in the early morning, watching as other cars streamed by on their way to work, knowing the kind of traffic they were headed into, and thought of much simpler times with Fred. They had been partners, virtually inseparable, or so the perception had gone. In truth, Balthazar understood that Fred had never really wanted to be his friend. It was a matter of convenience, and as much resentment as there was on his part to this knowledge, he had never let it color the experiences themselves with Fred, who was fun, as long as he was around, to play off of. Fred had other interests. It was always evident, but he seemed to enjoy Balthazar, too, if not by rote. Balthazar had met his mother. He knew where it came from. He also knew where Fred might have been going next, and there was always the possibility Fred was going somewhere, if he'd had the chance. He'd always had an interest in Japanese culture. Apparently he liked Japan itself as well. There might have been a woman.
The growing light in the sky had yet to fully cast itself, but it had already captured its usual beauty. Balthazar admired it. He hadn't been looking for it, but he happened to notice it, so he took the time to enjoy it. If it was more than a charming display of atmosphere, Balthazar couldn't have said, but he could have cared less. He could invest as much or as little meaning into a thing as he cared to, but he thought reading into things was a waste of time. Some things were exactly what they seemed to be. A lot of time had been wasted throughout history trying to pretend they weren't, though it had produced plenty of cultural relevance. Balthazar appreciated culture, but he wasn't a slave to it. He could not have said how he got his name, or why he should be attempting to follow any particular culture because of it.
Maybe it was a fault of his upbringing. Fred was rather debacherous, and that was what he had always known, growing up as a child of fortune. Balthazar had come to know his roots, and since learning of Boy Benjamin's package had dug still deeper. Fred had a linguistic challenge, a kind of stutter that made him trip over words, that he had conquered in adulthood, but which plagued him in his earlier years. Balthazar heard the testimony from past acquaintances and almost felt pity, but thought better of his former friend for it, to have achieved such a triumph. It made him savor his own impending victory that much more.
He turned on the radio, and found talk.
"--wrecked the foundation of the country," the host was saying. "Owing to this fact, it is our obligation to ensure this latest legislation doesn't pass. Once you erode our values, you erode our very soul, and we can't let that happen. Bad things happen to good people because they let it happen, and because they're not as good as they think they are. Don't listen to those who say bad things are only a matter of chance. Everything happens for a reason, and the reasons have to do with what we allow to happen, what we allow to creep inside our homes. This isn't about moral decay, but personal decay."
Balthazar switched it off again. He didn't need sanctimonious talk. He looked at the clock on the dashboard, and realized he'd been listening to more of it than he'd thought. He should get going. There was much to discuss with Fred, and very little time.
Fred was collecting his newspaper when Balthazar approached, on foot. Dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, Fred seemed to acknowledge him with an indistinct nod, an invitation, with little warmth to it. "You'll be wanting your decaf, won't you?" he called out, scooping up the paper.
"I gave that up," Balthazar said, following Fred into the plain suburban home he kept, on the fringes of Traverse, in a district known as Warner.
"Probably a good thing," Fred said, still walking away, probably to retrieve a robe, inside his house, letting his guest make himself at home. "I always told you it wasn't good for you. But I've taken up the bad habit for myself. I could give you a small cup, if you'd like."
"No, thanks," Balthazar said. In a few moments Fred reappeared, with the bathrobe and cup of coffee, his newspaper nuzzled beneath an arm. His sandy beard was as out of control as always, and he wore reading glasses. His hair was as much a mess, which was normal, too. A prominent belly made itself known as well. Fred continued to be distracted, purposefully.
"You haven't been around in a while," he noted as he scanned the front page. "Heard you'll be in the Tracks soon enough. The bar is doing well, I suppose."
"It is," Balthazar said. "Look, I--"
"You're here for a reason," Fred said. "That much is obvious. We'll get to that later. It's still morning for me, and you know how they are premium."
"You don't have to make this so awkward," Balthazar said.
"I think I've earned that right," Fred said. "You are not in the position to say what this should be like. You're the guest."
"And the host should be more welcoming," Balthazar said.
"If the host knows he will be one, yes," Fred said. "But if he doesn't, he doesn't need to be anything. Don't talk to me about how things should be."
"So things haven't been as easy lately," Balthazar said. "It's what you wanted, isn't it? I had the impression you wanted to severe our ties."
"I don't recall the conversation," Fred said. "Perhaps you could refresh my memory?"
"There wasn't one," Balthazar said. "I took it as an assumption."
"Well, there you have it," Fred said. "You need something again, though, don't you?"
"I never needed anything from you," Balthazar said.
"A funny thing to say," Fred said. "You'll be reminded of it when the door swings 'round your ass."
"There's no reason to be rude," Balthazar said.
"You started it," Fred said.
"Look, just put aside those issues for a minute," Balthazar said.
"I need a compelling reason to," Fred said. "Tell me how you managed to turn the bar around. It was on the verge of boarding its window six months ago, after the robbery."
"The impact of the robbery was inflated, as far as I could tell," Balthazar said. "There was never such danger."
"You purchased it," Fred said. "Care to divulge the financial matters for that?"
"Look, just forget it," Balthazar said.
"You can't say you were just in the neighborhood," Fred said. "I chose this neighborhood because it was out of the way. Wanted to protect the family."
"You have a family?" Balthazar said.
"Not since you last knew, no," Fred said. "It was a package deal, and I was entirely comfortable with it. I believe you know the mother. Bessie Solomon."
"Elizabeth," Balthazar said.
"Ashlee's sister," Fred said. "Truett's daughter. Mother of Rose and Hansen. Widow of Butler Epstein."
"Thanks for the refresher course," Balthazar said. "What're you doing with her?"
"Love," Fred said. The phone began to ring. The portable, Balthazar realized, was in Fred's robe pocket. He answered it immediately. "It's Cutty now. Wouldn't you believe it."
Balthazar watched as a brief conversation ensued, mostly filled with Fred listening to Solomon and offering affirmative responses. Every now and again, Fred would look toward Balthazar, and Balthazar wouldn't like it.
"I apologize," Fred said. "It couldn't wait. Whatever you're here for, I've got my own business, too, you must realize."
"Of course," Balthazar said. "Our line of work is always open for business."
"I sometimes regret that," Fred said, suddenly becoming sentimental. "Especially now. Ashlee is a good girl, Balthazar, but her sister is the keeper. To think Butler was the one who learned that first."
"He was good for a few things," Balthazar said. He believed his wife was the better sister, but could stand humoring Fred, now, in the end. "Okay, you have me pegged. I admit it. I came here for a reason. You've got to tell me something. You know a lot of people. One of them in particular, the one known as the Dread Poet. I need to find him."
"The Dread Poet," Fred mused, sitting back. "I haven't seen him in a long time. But I can help. I can help you, Balthazar. This one last time."
"Just one last time?" Balthazar said. "You intend to sever our ties?"
"Time has been doing that well enough," Fred said. "But it isn't time you should be worried about."
"A threat?" Balthazar said.
"Something like that," Fred said. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. You haven't walked into a trap. You would extend me the same courtesy. I don't wish for your death, but there are those who do. You don't know? You've become a liability."
"Boy Benjamin wouldn't dispose of me so easily," Balthazar said.
"Who said anything about Boy Benjamin? He is not the big kahuna here, the big fish," Fred said. "If you think so, if you've been buying his bullshit propaganda, than I pity you even more than I already do. No, there are bigger fish, and you're still a little fish to fry. You want to know about the Dread Poet? I'll do you the favor. Yeah, I'll do that for you. You deserve that much. That's what former friends are for, right? Friends who haven't become enemies?"
No comments:
Post a Comment