Raven Stole the Moon Read online

  The RGB envelope had a piece of paper in it that explained it all. It was a settlement. That’s how Robert had that kind of money. He had settled with the resort people and never told Jenna. The letter was filled with all sorts of legal sentences about indemnification and liability and also a little item about keeping all matters confidential. When was it signed? July thirtieth. Exactly two weeks after the drowning. Hardly enough time for the corpse to get cold.

  Well, this deserves another glass of wine. Rules are rules, but sometimes the situation makes things less obvious. What’s going on here, anyway, on this day of days with the black ice killing Leeza Gibbons and the bottle’s more than half empty, less than half full, so just finish it off and be done with it. When did I open it anyway? Was it today? It couldn’t have been a whole bottle today, that wouldn’t be good. There must be more, there’s always more. Not under the sink, because Robert checks there. There are better places than behind a shoe box. If you’re going to hide something, you’d better hide it good around here. Under sinks and behind shoe boxes are the first places people look. Robert doesn’t know about the secret door. The gun box. They told her that in the old days people hid guns in their houses, and in the hall closet they have a hollow wall that has a little door with enough space inside for a couple of guns or maybe a few bottles of wine. Kind of like a little wine cellar. Why didn’t Robert know about that? If he had, wouldn’t he have hidden the papers there instead of behind her shoes? Maybe he wanted her to find them so he wouldn’t ever have to tell. It would just come out by itself, magic, he figured probably that it would be a long time before I ever put on my nice shoes again to go out, since I’m so depressed, and all we do is order ginger chicken from the Chinese place and soggy dumplings that taste like little turds wrapped up in soggy white mush. If there were a gun in the secret gun box, maybe it would be used. If there’s a gun on the wall in act one, it has to go off by act five. Or is it act four? Three. No, five. Seven three five one two five five. Just take the corkscrew in there and open it right away. Sit down right in the hall and crack it open, have a drink, maybe two. Better finish before Robert walks in wearing a gray suit and a red tie. That’s the kind of day it is today. It’s a gray suit day. Thank God nobody killed Montel.

  Robert came in the back and found the bank statements and an empty bottle of wine first. He found Jenna sitting on the floor in the hallway wearing her nice black dress drinking another bottle of wine second.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jenna rolled her head along the wall until she saw him standing there.

  “Getting drunk.”

  “Why?”

  He reached down and grabbed her arm. She jerked away violently, knocking over the bottle of wine. Glug, glug, it said, spilling onto the floor. Robert reached for it and set it upright.

  “Get hold of yourself,” he said, grabbing her arm tightly. Jenna wrenched away.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “Don’t touch me!” And she screamed until Robert let her go and took a step back. He looked down at her, pathetic drunk; he could see her underwear, skirt hiked up like that.

  “I’m taking you to a hospital—”

  “Seven three five one two five five.”

  “A clinic where they can dry you out. You’re a drunk. You need help.”

  “Seven three five one two five five.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  She leveled her eyes on him with hatred and spoke out of her clenched teeth.

  “It’s how much your son is worth to you.”

  Then she watched how it hurt him. In the stomach and he winced with pain, turned around, and walked off a few steps, then came back.

  “I was going to tell you when you were ready.”

  “I’m ready. Tell me.”

  He turned and walked away again.

  “Tell me!” she shouted at him, so he stopped, but he didn’t face her.

  “You already know, don’t you? So what’s to tell?”

  “Tell me how you felt when you signed it two weeks after he died. Did you feel good about it?”

  He still didn’t face her. He couldn’t. But he rubbed his face with his hand and loosened his tie.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why did you sign it? Why did you take the money?”

  “There was nothing else to do.”

  Now he turned and looked down at her. It was dark in the hallway. Jenna hadn’t turned on the light. They were two shapes with fading faces.

  “They offered the money and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to talk to you about it because you were so upset. I knew we couldn’t sue them . . .”

  “Why not?”

  “It wasn’t their fault. What could we sue them for? And then you would have to testify and Steve promised me they would fight it if we tried and there would be a lot of pain on all sides.”

  “Steve.”

  “He said we wouldn’t win and it would hurt you more and cost us a lot of money.”

  “We wouldn’t win because why? Because it was my fault.”

  “No . . .”

  “Because it wasn’t their fault; it was my fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just happened.”

  “And you agreed with them.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “You took the money.”

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “Because I killed Bobby.”

  There was silence then, finally, almost total silence except for Jenna’s sobs in the darkness and a creak of the floorboards as Robert shifted his weight. He moved to her and knelt beside her, stroking her neck. He wanted to touch and be touched, to love and be loved. Because the love was gone. The joy was gone. It was too far away, forever distant on the horizon.

  “You didn’t kill Bobby. It just happened.”

  He helped her to her feet and cradled her in his arms.

  “Let’s go upstairs and you can get some sleep. I’ll order food.”

  He led her to their room and undressed her, laying her down between the sheets and tucking her in, like a child, his own child who was sick and needed to be in bed. He stroked her forehead as he sat on the edge, watching her lips part as she breathed and he remembered he had loved her once, but she had become so shriveled since Bobby died, so cold and dead inside that he couldn’t see the real her anymore. He kissed her lightly and left the room, the door open so he could hear if she got up, and went downstairs to order some Chinese food.

  He emptied the newly opened bottle of wine down the drain and cursed all of it. It wasn’t fair to carry this burden. They needed something good in their lives, a little light so they could enjoy it together. There was too much bad and it overpowered them, weighed them down.

  When the food came, Robert made a tray of ginger chicken and the dumplings she liked and took it upstairs. When he got there, he found Jenna on the floor of the bathroom, unconscious. For she had taken an overdose of sleeping pills and was almost dead already. Only by some crazy miracle was she saved, able to live again another day.

  Chapter 34

  WHEN EDDIE SAW JOEY SITTING ON THE SEAWALL ACROSS THE street, he wanted to smash him. Short of that, he wanted to tell him what a low-life scum he was. He crossed over to the little prick and stood near enough so that he could see that smug little face grinning up at him.

  “You’re an asshole,” Eddie started.

  Joey laughed.

  “Hey, that’s my job. I didn’t come here on my own. He hired me. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “What about that bullshit with that picture. We weren’t sleeping together.”

  “A technicality,” Joey said casually, lighting up a cigarette.

  “We never slept together.”

  “Yeah, right. Are you kidding? I know you did the nasty. Maybe I don’t have a picture in the act, but I know you did it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Dude, I’ve bee
n in this business a long time. I can see it in the eyes. Plus, you’d have to be a faggot not to nail that chick. Shit, if she were in my bed, I’d fuck her brains out and leave her begging for more.”

  “Something tells me she’d be begging for you to stop.”

  “I love it when they beg me to stop. Then I just plow harder.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped toward the water. This kid was too much. Must have quite a social life.

  Joey laughed again.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Eddie looked at him.

  “Oh, you didn’t offend me. I was just thinking how pathetic you are, that’s all.”

  “How pathetic I am? Oh, that’s rich. Lemme see here, we have a depressed wife who can’t even get it together enough to escape from her husband right. We have a jealous husband who pays some P.I. a boatload of money to track down his wife and then flies up to Alaska in a heartbeat so they can have it out. Then there’s you. You’re quite a treat. Young stud, meets strange cosmopolitan woman, falls in love with her, wants desperately to keep her but knows she’s from a different world and you aren’t destined to be together. But you’re holding out, aren’t you? Always a ray of hope for you. Your love is strong.”

  Joey flicked his cigarette butt toward the water.

  “Well, let me tell you, friend, how it all works out. You don’t get the girl. You never do. You poor schmucks always end up standing out in the rain. That’s just a law of nature, so you might as well get used to it.”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe laws of nature don’t apply in Alaska.”

  Joey smiled and shook his head.

  “Maybe.”

  Eddie picked up a stick and broke it in half. Then he broke each half in half, and so on.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Me? I cash my check, go back to Seattle and get laid, and then head out on my next adventure tracking down another bunch of pathetic losers and fuckups.”

  “I guess you got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Look, I didn’t invent the system, okay, I just work within the rules. And the rules are simple. Actually, there’s only one. When given the chance, everyone fucks everyone else.”

  “That’s a real healthy view of life.”

  “Hey, it pays the rent.”

  Eddie turned toward the house and saw Jenna and Robert inside. Jenna was still sitting on the couch and didn’t look happy. Robert was pacing back and forth in front of her, agonizing about something, pulling his hair, talking at her.

  “My hand is killing me,” Joey complained, unwrapping the gauze from his bite and grimacing. “That dog should be tested for rabies.”

  “He doesn’t have rabies,” Eddie said without looking. He was still watching Jenna and Robert in the house. He wanted to know what was going on. What were they discussing for so long? He guessed it took a while to sort out a whole marriage.

  “You know how they test dogs for rabies? They cut off their heads,” Joey said, matter-of-factly.

  Eddie looked down at Oscar, lying on the ground near the seawall. “The dog doesn’t have rabies,” he repeated.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he isn’t a dog, he’s a spirit helper.”

  Joey raised his eyebrows. That was a new one. He liked that. “A spirit helper? What kind?”

  “I don’t know. Raven sent him to protect Jenna from the kushtaka.”

  “Hello? Raven? Kushtaka? Tell me more, please, I’m all ears.”

  Eddie didn’t have time, though, to explain it all. He was much more concerned with what was happening inside with Jenna and Robert. He wanted to be able to hear their conversation, find out what they were saying. What would Jenna decide? Joey was probably right; she was going to leave. But maybe not.

  “What kind of a spirit helper?” Joey insisted.

  “I don’t know,” Eddie snapped. “The shaman says he’s a spirit. I say he’s a dog. You tell me. Is he a spirit helper or a dog?”

  “There’s one way to find out,” Joey said. “You want me to find out?”

  Eddie was about to answer with another impatient “I don’t know,” when the gun went off, loud and hollow, followed by an echo across the water, then a yelp from Oscar. Eddie turned to see Joey with a pistol, and Oscar, a bullet in his side, struggling to get up under the weight of his wound. He tried to stand but couldn’t seem to get his feet underneath him. He looked to Eddie with confusion in his eyes, and Eddie could do nothing but watch in horror as blood flowed from Oscar’s side.

  Jenna and Robert emerged from the house at the sound of the shot and ran across the street. Jenna cried out when she saw that Oscar had been shot.

  “What have you done?” she screamed.

  “He’s not a real spirit helper,” Joey said, putting his gun away, “or he wouldn’t be dying right now.”

  “What have you done?” she demanded, knowing that no answer could explain what had happened. She fell to her knees before the dying dog and put her hands on the wound, a childish attempt to stop the bleeding. “What have you done?”

  “What’s your fucking problem?” Eddie yelled at Joey. He made a move toward Joey, but Robert held him back. Joey wagged his finger at Eddie.

  “Careful. I’ve got a gun.”

  Eddie wheeled on Robert.

  “Get off of me. Who do you think you are, bringing some psychopath up here? Get the hell out of here!”

  Jenna hugged Oscar, held him, tried to lift him. Oscar raised his head and looked at Jenna in a plea for help, a plea for understanding.

  “Help me,” she cried. “Help me. We have to take him to the doctor.”

  She tried to lift the dying dog, tried to carry him, but the weight was too much. Her clothes were covered with Oscar’s blood, and the sight of her struggling to save the animal upset Robert. He wanted her to stop. Couldn’t she see the dog was dead?

  “Someone has to do something! Don’t you have a heart? We need a doctor. Why won’t you help?”

  She tried to lift Oscar again but fell backward. Robert went to her and tried to hold her.

  “Jenna, please,” he said, “please, stop.”

  “Get away from me!” she lashed out, striking at Robert, hitting him in the face. “Get away! Why are you here? Why did you come? I’m not going with you, ever! Get away from me!”

  She was crying, on her knees, hugging Oscar, who was still breathing, but barely, shallow puffs, last breaths before he died. Robert didn’t know what to do. He looked around, but Eddie was gone. Joey had moved off a bit down the street, but he was still close enough. What had happened? Why did Joey shoot the dog?

  Eddie returned with a blanket. He spread it out on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Jenna wanted to know.

  “We’re taking him to the doctor,” he said.

  Jenna and Eddie lifted Oscar and laid him on the blanket. Together they carried his limp body to Eddie’s pickup as Robert watched. They climbed in and started the truck, and as they pulled away, Eddie stopped before Joey and waved him over to the driver’s side window.

  “You’d better get the hell out of this town by morning or I’m coming for you and I’ll kill you.”

  Joey made a face of mock fear. “Ooh, big man.”

  “I’ll gut you like a fish, you piece of shit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Joey saluted. “I’ll take that into account when making my decision.”

  Eddie started to pull away, but Joey called out. Eddie stopped the truck. Joey took a small silver key out of his pocket and handed it to Eddie.

  “You might want this. I think your friend, the old man, might be looking for it.”

  Eddie took the key and glared at Joey with such intensity and anger that for a second Joey was actually afraid. It wasn’t worth getting hurt, he knew, so he would be on that morning plane. Even though he had half a mind to stick around to get in a few shots.

  Eddie gunned the engine and the truck took off toward to
wn. He knew Oscar was already dead, but he owed it to Jenna to make an attempt to do something. Someone has to do something. Don’t you understand? There is nothing more overwhelming than the feeling of being powerless, being forced to watch as something takes hold and you can do nothing to stop it. Sometimes the best we can do at times like these is hold each other up, help each other through, so when we come through the other side, at least we’ll know that we came through together.

  EDDIE HELD HIS FINGER on the buzzer until the light went on inside the house. Then he went back to the truck and they lifted Oscar’s body out and carried it to the front door. Dr. Lombardi, a notorious early sleeper, opened the door wearing a candy-striped pajama top and jeans. He was unfazed at being jarred out of his sleep.

  Wrangell didn’t have a vet. There was a vet in Ketchikan who stopped in on Wrangell every other week and would make special trips when called, but that was it. Dr. Lombardi, a young man, was a general practitioner who had moved to Wrangell from Seattle a few years earlier. He had a good attitude about the whole thing. In a town the size of Wrangell, he knew, sometimes the general practitioner was called upon to be the Everyman. Or Everydoctor, as the case may be. That’s why he had moved to Wrangell. He only wished that one day someone would bring him an animal he could help, rather than road kill that had to be put away.

  Dr. Lombardi looked on with concern as Jenna and Eddie approached with the blood-soaked blanket.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Our dog was shot,” Eddie said. “It may be too late.”

  Dr. Lombardi’s office was carved out of his house. He ushered Jenna and Eddie through the waiting room, which was at one time a living room, and into the examination room. Eddie laid Oscar on the examination table and Dr. Lombardi pulled back the blanket.

  “Oh, my,” he said, shaking his head and looking at the bullet wound. He held open Oscar’s eye and flashed a penlight into it.

  “He’s still hanging in there, but . . .”