'He drove her to it,' McCandless said grimly. 'After their kid died, she didn't get any comfort from him at all. None. I don't think he gave much of a shit about the kid, either. Sorry, Dennis. I never could shut up. Talk all the time. Always have. My mother used to say, "Dickie, your tongue's hung in the middle and runs on both ends." What did you say you wanted?'
'My friend and I went to LeBay's funeral,' I said, 'and after it was over, I introduced myself to his brother - '
'He seemed a right enough type,' McCandless broke in. 'Schoolteacher. Ohio.'
'That's right. I had a talk with him, and he did seem like a nice enough guy, I told him I was going to do my senior English paper on Ezra Pound - '
'Ezra who?'
'Pound.'
'Who the fuck's that? Was he at LeBay's funeral? '
'No, sir. Pound was a poet.'
'A what?'
'Poet. He's dead too.'
'Oh.' McCandless sounded doubtful.
'Anyway, LeBay - this is George LeBay he said he'd send me a bunch of magazines about Ezra Pound for my report, if I wanted them. Well, it turns out that I could use them, but I forgot to get his address. I thought you might have it.'
'Sure, it'll be in the records; all that stuff is. I hate being fucking secretary, but my year's up this July, and never again. Know what I mean? Never-fucking-again.'
'I hope I'm not being a real pain in the ass.'
'No. Hell, no. I mean, that's what the American Legion's for, right? Gimme your address, Dennis, and I'll send you a card with the info on it.'
I gave him my name and address and apologized again for bothering him at his job.
'Think nothing of it,' he said. 'I'm on my fucking coffee break, anyhow.' I had a moment to wonder just what it was he did at David Emerson's, which really was where Libertyville's elite bought. Was he a salesman? I could see him showing some smart young lady around, saying, Here's one fuck of a nice couch, ma'am, and look at this goddam settee, we sure didn't have nothing like that on Guadalcanal when those fucking stoned-out Japs came at us with their Maxwell House swords.
I grinned a little, but what he said next sobered me quickly.
'I rode in that car of LeBay's a couple of times. I never liked it. I'll be damned if I know why, but I never did. And I never would ride in it after his wife . . .you know. Jesus, that gave me the spooks.'
'I'll bet,' I said, and my voice seemed to come from far away. 'Listen, what did happen when he quit the Legion? You said it had something to do with the car?'
He laughed, sounding a little pleased. 'You're not really interested in all that ancient history, are you?'
'Well, yeah, I am. My friend bought the car, remember.'
'Well then I'll tell you. It was a pretty funny goddam thing, at that. A few of the guys mention it from time to time, when we've all had a few. I ain't the only one with scars on my hands. Get right down to the bottom of it, it was sort of spooky.'
'What was?'
'Aw, it was a kid's trick. -But nobody really liked the sonofabitch, you know. He was an outsider, a loner - '
Like Arnie, I thought.
' - and we'd all been drinking,' McCandless finished. 'It was after the meeting, and LeBay had been making an even worse prick of himself than usual. So a bunch of us are at the bar, you know, and we could tell LeBay was getting ready to go home. He was getting his jacket on and arguing with Poochie Anderson about some baseball question. When LeBay went, he always went the same way, kid. He'd jump into that Plymouth of his, back up, and then floor it. That thing'd go out of the parking lot like a rocket, spraying gravel everywhere. So - this was Sonny Bellerman's idea - about four of us go out the back door to the parking lot while LeBay's shouting at Poochie. We all get behind the far corner of the building, because we know that's where he'll finish backing the car up before he takes off. He always called it by a girl's name, I told you it was like he was married to the fucking thing.
"'Keep your eyes open and your heads down or he'll see us," Sonny