The Murder of Miranda

“I couldn’t believe it at first,” Grady said. “I thought she was putting me on. But she’s not the type, she’s deadly serious about everything.” He read the note again before he replaced it in his pocket. “That’s a lot of crap how all we can think about is lying in each other’s arms. Jeez, I never even thought about it when I was doing it, and that was a year ago.”

“Eight months.”

“Close enough. I don’t sit around staring at calendars.”

“In the note she refers to plans,” Aragon said. “What plans?”

“You’re the one who talked to her, not me. I told you before, I haven’t even spoken to her since I got back. Now suddenly she’s writing stuff about lying in each other’s arms. For all I know, she’s got a church and preacher lined up. I feel trapped, man. Trapped.” He thumped the hood of the car with his fist. It left an imprint in the dust like an animal track.

“Why did you come back here, Grady?”

“I needed the job and the surfing’s good. I never dreamed Miranda would be waiting for me with a bunch of crazy ideas. Maybe I should run away. What do you think?”

“You’re pretty good at it,” Aragon said. “Maybe you should.”

“I mean it. She might be really far out. She might try something wild, like taking a shot at me or sticking a knife in my back, especially if she finds out I’m interested in someone else.”

“Are you?”

“Sort of.”

“Explain ‘sort of.’”

“Well, Ellen and me, we got something going. She’s a nice girl with class and a steady job. It might work out okay. I could do worse.”

“Could she?”

Grady thumped the hood of the car again but there was no force behind it. It was like a gesture he’d seen done in a movie by someone he identified with. “Stop coming down hard on me because of that business in Mexico. It wasn’t my fault. None of it was my idea in the first place, not her and me, not the trip, not even the Porsche, which never did me any good anyway. You know what happened to it?”

“You sold it and lost the money in a crap game.”

“I parked it in a garage in Phoenix and it got ripped off,” Grady said. “How’s that for a laugh?”

“Fair.”

“You still think I’m a louse, huh?”

“Close enough. I don’t sit around staring at dictionaries.”

“Well, I’m not so crazy about you either, you self-righteous bastard. You probably never had to do a day’s work in your life, everything handed to you on a platter, college, law school, the whole bit. Me, I ran away from home when I was thirteen, they were going to kick me out anyway. Want to know why? I stole a car. How’s that for laugh #2?”

“About as funny as laugh number one.”

“It was my uncle’s car and I didn’t mean to steal it, I only wanted to go for a ride. But once I started driving I couldn’t stop. I kept right on going until the gas tank was empty. I ended up near a ball park in Visalia. I watched the game for a while, then I hitchhiked home and got the hell beat out of me. I left again the next day, this time with the money my aunt kept hidden under her mattress... So there you have it, the story of my life, chapter one.”

“The lady, the mattress, the money,” Aragon said. “You started early and learned fast.”

“I found out where it’s at and how to get there. Sure. Why not?”

“Is the word out about you and Ellen?”

“We haven’t done any advertising, but I guess Mr. Henderson has caught on and some of Ellen’s neighbors in the apartment building, people like that. Ellen’s got a lot of friends, and friends talk.”

“Are you living in her apartment?”

“Not technically, no. I rent a room on Quinientos Street.”

“Does Miranda know about it?”

“I don’t see how, unless she followed me home from work one night, and she wouldn’t do that. She’s always got those two crazies with her. They tag along after her like she’s their mother.”

“Or stepmother.”

From Grady’s lack of reaction to the word, Aragon was certain that he wasn’t aware of Miranda’s plans for his future and her own, via the Admiral.

“What do you think I should do?” Grady said.

“What do you want to do?”

“Sit tight, keep things alive with Ellen, pretend I never got the letter.”

“When did you get it?”

“Three days ago. It was slipped under the door of the guard shack with my name on the envelope.”