Old Times

Note: This is Bonus Content

If you haven’t read the novel I just serialized, The Darling Members Club, I suggest you read it first. You can find the opening episode here.

If you enjoyed that, I thought you might also enjoy the following short story. You might look at this as “the rest of the story” of The Darling Members Club.

Sometimes when I finish a novel, the story continues in my head. When it works out well, I often begin another novel or write a short story. I hope you will enjoy it.

I’ll be back soon with another serialized novel.

Harvey

Old Times

Harvey Stanbrough

1

Three months after the memorial service for Darlene Falwell Jackson—our Darlene’s mother—my old sergeant from my days with the cops, Walter McBride, stopped by my office. His visits had become more or less routine, usually every couple of weeks.

By then, Janice, my secretary, was used to him just walking in. The first time he’d waited for her to announce him. The next couple of times he’d glanced at her and said, “Is he in?” then grinned before moving through the outer office and opening my door.

But the last few times, he didn’t bother with Janice. And he didn’t have to. It isn’t like I’m ever not in. At least not very often. To be not in, I’d have to have a case, and more often than not I don’t. Instead, I’m in and waiting for a job, which is kind of a job in itself.

I see it as making myself available. And to make myself available, I sit behind my desk and either work a crossword puzzle or lean back in my chair and bank my tennis ball off the floor and the wall opposite my desk. I still haven’t beaten my own record, though, of 306 consecutive catches.

For that particular drill, I keep my door closed. It isn’t that I’m ashamed of the silliness—a man has to have something to keep him occupied—it’s just that it’s private silliness. Not something I necessarily want to share with casual passersby or some geek who stops in to ask Janice what happened to the H&R Block guy who used to be here.

So anyway, the last few times Sarge had visited, he’d just come through the outer door, straight across the outer office. Those times he was preceded—barely—by Janice’s voice filtering through my closed door. “Mr. Talbot, Sarge is here.”

And that’s exactly what happened this morning.

When Janice called out her warning, the tennis ball had just caromed off the wall and was on its way back to me. I grabbed the handle on the top right drawer of my desk and jerked the drawer open, then caught the tennis ball, dropped it into the drawer alongside my Old Times whiskey bottle, and closed the drawer just as the doorknob on my door squealed.

Oh, and I pulled my shoes off my desk and leaned forward in my chair.

About the time my feet hit the floor, the door opened and Sarge’s grizzled old head poked through. As always, his silver hair was almost shaved around the sides and back and cut in a flattop. A broad grin adorned his usually grouchy face. “I give you enough time to hide the ball this time?”

I grinned. “Hey, Sarge, come in. Ball? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Talbot, you don’t fool me. I remember you bouncin’ that tennis ball down at the station when you thought nobody was lookin’. You know, when you should’a been catchin’ up on your paperwork.”

“So how’s it going, Sarge?”

“I thought you were gonna call me Walter from now on.”

“Too many syllables. What gives? You got another case for me yet? Wanna give away more of your money?”

“We’ been over that. It wasn’t my money, it was Martha’s. An’ she left it to ‘em in her will.”

“Right. That was the first three hundred thousand. But Darlene told me an anonymous donor delivered another fifty grand in an envelope via bike messenger. Sure that wasn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Might’a been. You know, my memory ain’t what it used to be.”

I gestured toward the guest chair. “Take a load off. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, can’t an old friend stop by for a visit?”

“Anytime, Sarge. So what’s going on?”

“Nothin’.” He paused. “Remember that time I mentioned that guy who got it in the neck in that alley?”

“Yeah, I think so. Lou Simpson, right?”

“Lou?”

“Yeah. I’d asked you whether you knew Lou, and you said which one. I was talking about Lou Galecki, but you were thinking of another guy from before that. Used to be your partner. Lou Simpson.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Yeah, Lou Simpson. Guy was my trainin’ officer.”

“Right. That’s what you said. And he was the guy who got a bullet in the neck that time, right?”

“Right, right. Yeah, he was the guy. Good guy, ol’ Lou.” For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he frowned. “So what about ‘im?”

“Nothing. You asked whether I remembered you mentioning that guy who got it in the neck. Then I reminded you that was Lou Simpson.”

He scowled. “Hell, Talbot, I know it was Simpson. Don’t you think I knew that? He was my trainin’ officer, for Christ’s sake.” He put his finger to his neck below his left ear. “Got it right here. Lemme tell you, boy, you don’t forget a thing like that. Some things you don’t get over, y’know?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Yeah? I know not. Got it right in the neck.” He pushed up out of the chair. “Anyways, I’d better go. I know you’re probably busy. Nothin’ worse than a burned-out old cop stoppin’ by to chat when you got things to do.”

“Not at all, Sarge. Stay awhile. I enjoy the company. Plus, you were my training officer.” I grinned. “Remember that?”

“Whaddya mean do I remember that? ‘Course I remember that. You was my favorite for awhile there.”

“Yeah?”

“Whaddayou, fishin’ for compliments now?” He wagged a hand at me. “You don’t need no compliments from an old guy like—”

A quiet knock came on the door. A second later it opened a few inches and Janice poked her head in. She glanced up at Sarge, then looked at me. “Mr. Talbot, Carolyn’s here. Should I show her in or—”

“Yes, show her in.”

Janice smiled and her head disappeared and the latch clicked.

I glanced up at Sarge. “Hang around at least a little longer, Sarge. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to Carolyn.”

He eased himself into the chair. “Carolyn, eh? I remember that name. You’ve talked about her a few times, right?”

“Yes sir. She and I—I guess we’re pretty serious. I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s the one.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “So maybe I ought’a step out, eh?”

“Nah, nothing like that. I’m just proud she’s my woman, and I’m proud you’re my friend, that’s all. So I’d like the two of you to meet.”

“Jesus, you’re really wrapped, ain’t you? You gonna ask me to give you away at the weddin’ too?” He chuckled. “Just kiddin’. I know what you mean. Your best girl an’ your best friend, am I right?”

“Absolutely.”

As the doorknob turned, I stood and started around my desk.

Carolyn came through dressed in white leather thong sandals, jeans, and a white peasant blouse with the tails tied in a knot across her flat tummy. She only glanced at Sarge, who was struggling a little to push himself up from the guest chair again.

She met me at the corner of my desk, glanced up to mesmerize me with those blue eyes, smiled, and pecked me on the lips. “Hi sweety. I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wondered whether you might want to—”

Sarge’s gravelly voice interrupted her. “So you’re Talbot’s girl, eh? Walter’s my name, but you can call me Sarge if you want.”

Carolyn turned around, still smiling, extended her hand, and—

The smile dropped off her face.

As Sarge took her hand and kissed it, she gaped at him. “I—Oh god!” She looked over her shoulder at me. Her brow was furrowed.

Sarge said, “My pleasure, Miss.”

Carolyn didn’t respond. She pulled her hand back, turned to face me and frowned. Her eyes were filled with pain. In a whimper, she said, “Is this some kind of ugly joke? But how did you know?”

“What?” I smiled, glanced past her at Sarge, then looked at her again. “How’d I know what?”

She shoved the hand Sarge had kissed into her pocket and shook her head. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”

Sarge frowned at her, then shifted his gaze to me. “What’s goin’ on?”

I said, “You can’t do what? You have to go? But didn’t you want to ask me something?”

She shook her head, whispered, “How could you?” Then she turned, jerked the door open, and stormed out.

Janice’s voice filtered through the door. It betrayed surprise. “Carolyn?”

The only response was the slamming of the outer door.

2

I was stunned.

Sarge looked at me. “What’s goin’ on, Talbot? You an’ her have a fight or somethin’?”

I reached back and jerked my jacket off the coat rack. The rack nearly fell over. “No. Listen, Sarge, I’ gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, a’right?”

“Sure. I just don’t under—”

As I rushed out, my office door blocked whatever else he said.

Janice said nothing. She only gaped as I ran past her desk, one arm in one sleeve of my jacket and my other trying to find the other sleeve.

My jacket half-on, I grasped the doorknob, pulled the door open, and hurried out onto the catwalk. I grabbed the rail and looked for Carolyn.

Her car door closed. She was already inside.

I shrugged into the other sleeve of my jacket. “Carolyn! Wait!”

Her car started, then jerked itself backward out of the parking lot. It stopped, the front wheels turned sharply, and the back tires squealed as she drove toward the end of the building and disappeared around the corner.

I ran to the stairs and skipped down them as quickly as I could. I fumbled my keys at the car door, dropped them, picked them up, and finally managed to unlock the door. Then I got in and repeated Carolyn’s actions.

At the exit of the parking lot, I touched the brake. a blue car was approaching on the four-lane, but it was in the left lane. In the right lane was a generic white van, a big one like an ambulance only white, but it was back a little. I twisted the steering wheel hard to the right and punched the gas pedal.

The car swerved a little to the left but he stayed on the road.

The driver of the van laid on the horn.

*

By then I was already pulling away. I spotted Carolyn’s car. It was a good quarter-mile ahead of me.

I frowned. What in the world’s wrong? And where’s she going? And why?

Okay, calm down. She’s in jeans, so she isn’t going to work. So she has to be going to her place, right? And I know a shortcut.

I floored the gas pedal and slipped into the left lane ahead of the blue car.

I was pulling away, but he laid on his horn anyway.

The nearest cars approaching from the other direction were nearly a quarter-mile away too. The guy in the left lane was a little closer, but I could make it.

I twisted the steering wheel hard left and my car crossed the median, the rear sliding to the right. In the rearview mirror, the back wheels were throwing up a cloud of dust and gravel.

I bumped up off the median and angled across the left lane into the far lane. I straightened the car just in time to avoid going off the road.

A tenth of a mile ahead. That’s the road I need.

It came up quicker than I expected, and I whipped the steering wheel to the right, bumped into and out of three large potholes, and floored the gas again.

She’s really angry about something, and I have no clue what. But whatever it is, she thinks I did it on purpose. If I don’t get to her place before she does, she might lock me out. I might not find out what’s wrong for a day or two.

Or ever.

3

What ‘ugly joke’ was she referring to? And how did I know what? The way she reacted to Sarge. It’s gotta have something to do with Sarge. But what? The two of them had never even met until this morning.

The road seemed to go on forever. It would curve back to the right, then curve farther and take me to her cross-street.

But it is a shortcut to her place. It is. I’d noticed it on a city map and drove it once just to test it.

Going the usual route, it’s a little over eleven miles from my office to Carolyn’s place. And in city traffic, it takes almost a half-hour. Going this way’s not quite eight miles and there’s less traffic.

And fewer traffic lights.

And fewer people.

Going this way’s only twenty minutes, right on the money.

And when I tested it, I was driving normal speed. I ought to make it with time to spare.

I just gotta keep going. Keep it floored and keep going. I’ll make it. I’ll make it with time to—

Something beeped.

A trash truck backing up? Something.

It beeped again.

I frowned.

What the hell? There are no trash trucks out here.

Beep.

Hell, there ain’t even any traffic out here. What gives?

Beep.

What? Jesus, stop it! There’s nothin’ in in front of me. Nothin’ behind me.

Beep.

I just gotta keep it floored. I’ll get there.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I frowned, twisted my head around. There’s gotta be a trash truck or something—

Beeeeeeeeeep.

4

Someone, some guy, yelled, “Okay, he’s crashing! Miss, you’ll have to step out!”

Sarge? No, too young. No gravel.

“Oh god, baby, I’m so sor—”

Carolyn?

Something tight on my hand.

“Miss? Move! Now!”

I frowned. What? Miss who?

Is he talkin’a Carolyn? Why’s he talkin’a Carolyn? But it’s gotta be Carolyn. I heard her voice. I heard—

I frowned again as something tugged at my hand.

No. Slipped away from my hand. Let go of my hand. What the f—

“Clear!” A jolt of something slammed through me, jerked me up, dropped me.

I coughed.

What? Clear? Clear what? What’s going on?

I frowned.

Whatever it is, stop it! I’m not there yet. I gotta get there, an’ I’m not there yet. “I’m not there yet!” I opened my eyes.

Lights! Bright lights! Comin’ straight at me!

I sucked in a breath and slammed my eyes shut and kicked for the brake pedal, but I still saw them.

I shook my head. What’s goin’ on?

I must’a fallen asleep or something. Am I asleep?

But the steering wheel.

I frowned.

Where’s the steering wheel? I can’t feel it under my hands!

I sucked in a breath, jerked forward to reach for the steering wheel. I gotta avoid the lights. The head-on collision. I gotta—

Something warm pressed on my chest. Something else held my shoulders. Something was pushing me back. Pressing me back.

“Relax, sir. You’re back.” It was that same male voice.

I’m back? Back where? I gotta get to Carolyn’s! But isn’t she here? I heard her voi—

“Can you hear me, sir? It’s all right. You’re all right. Just relax and lie back, sir. You’re going to be all right, okay? Just relax. You can open your eyes.”

5

I opened my eyes.

The lights. They weren’t so bright now, but they were right there. They were above me.

No steering wheel. No windshield. No road.

What the hell?

Wait. Carolyn. “Wait, Carolyn!”

No. She was holdin’ my left hand. She let go of my left hand. When did she take my hand?

I rolled my head to the left. A woman in a white dress, talking with a man. The young man. In a white coat. I closed my eyes, opened them again.

The people in white were gone, blocked by jeans. The top of jeans, and a white cloth knotted over smooth tan skin. Carolyn?

I closed my eyes. It can’t be. I’m dreamin’. I’m not even there yet.

Something—no, someone—taking my left hand. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Carolyn’s voice. But how? I ain’t there yet.

I opened my eyes, looked up.

Carolyn, leaning over me. Smiling. Tears flowing.

I jostled her hand a little. “Hey, you okay? We okay? What’d I do?”

The guy in the coat, beside Carolyn, smiling down at me. “You had an accident, Mr. Talbot.”

I looked at him, looked at Carolyn. “Accident? We’re talkin’ here!”

The guy grinned. “Yes sir.” He disappeared, backward.

Carolyn squeezed my hand lightly. “We’re fine, baby. And you’re fine. You’re okay.” She put one hip on the edge of the bed.

I’m in a bed? An’ I had an accident? Is this a hospital?

I frowned at Carolyn. “Am I in a hospital?”

She nodded, the tears still streaming. “You had an accident.”

A disembodied voice. That man again. “Miss, we’re prepping the surgery. We’ll have to give him something something something. You have about five minutes.”

6

I looked at Carolyn. “Are you okay?”

She smiled, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I’m fine, baby. And you’re going to be fine.”

“But I got five minutes? For what?”

“No, that’s me.” She jostled my hand. “Listen to me.”

I grinned. “Hey, you wanna come in here with me?”

Her voice caught like she wanted to laugh but cut it off. Her blue eyes sparkled. “More than anything. But later, okay?”

“Sure. Later’s good.”

“Listen. That man in your office. Sarge?”

“Yeah. Is Sarge okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s still at the office or—or somewhere.” She paused. “Stern, remember I told you about years ago? When I was a—”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was a little rough. But listen, I shouldn’a been a jerk. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. But remember I told you about my first date years ago? At the convention?”

“Oh. Yeah. On the couch, right? At my place? I remember.”

“I—I don’t think he recognized me this morning, but Sarge was my first date.”

“Your first date?”

“Years ago. At the convention. Sarge was my first date. That’s why I—”

I realized what she was saying. I tried to sit up. “It was him?” Something grabbed me. Held me.

“Yes, but it’s okay. I know he’s your friend. And—and I know you didn’t know. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have come after me. You wouldn’t be—” She lowered her forehead to my chest and sobbed and sobbed.

“It’s okay, Carolyn.” I couldn’t move my arms. I wanted to hold her, but I couldn’t move my arms. “Baby, it’s okay. I understand. I’ll fix things when I get outta here, a’right?”

The man’s voice came again, no gravel. “Miss? I’m sorry but it’s time.”

7

The surgery was a success. Carolyn said they’d had to repair three or four things in me. Apparently when I left the parking lot, the van was closer than I thought. Those bigger things always look slower. Guy t-boned me in the driver’s side door. But he was all right. Just shaken up.

He even came to see me in the hospital. Like on the third or fourth day, I guess.

I apologized. It was my fault, and I knew it, but I’d make his van right again.

Only he said thanks but I didn’t have to do that.

He said an old ex-cop said it was really his fault and he’d bought the guy a brand new van to replace his old one.

Which was good. It was a refrigerated van, too. He used it in his business. He leased it and himself to the coroner’s office. You know, for carryin’ stiffs.

The first time he drove if after he got it was two days after Sarge bought it for him.

The coroner called him out, had him meet the cops at a particular house.

Apparently Sarge had eventually remembered Carolyn too.

Then he’d gone home, squeezed himself into his blues, and ate his gun.

Like Sarge had said about Lou Simpson takin’ a bullet to the neck, some things you just don’t get over.

*******