The Cypress House(11)
“It hasn’t been so long since such an act was illegal.”
“You don’t appear to be a teetotaler, yet you say that with some sorrow.”
“Sorrow for what’s been lost, Mr. Wagner.”
“And what was lost? Purity?” Arlen said with a snort.
“Purity, no. What was lost when Roosevelt kicked Prohibition in the ass was a business environment the sort of which we may never see again.”
“Ah,” Arlen said. “A bootlegger. That’s what you are.”
“Now? No, Mr. Wagner. You can’t bootleg something that’s openly bought and traded. So a new commodity must be found and…” He shrugged. “I just miss the simplicity of booze. But let’s talk about you for a change. You and the young man departed a train in the middle of the night and lit out down an abandoned highway in an unfamiliar place. Due to a bad feeling, the boy said. It strikes me as a most exceptional decision.”
“Paul said all that needed to be said. I had a bad feeling. End of story.”
“I like it. Sounds ominous. A feeling of what? Impending doom?”
“I didn’t see a black cat walking under a ladder or any such foolish shit,” Arlen said, feeling anger rise, Sorenson watching him with calm interest. “If you had any idea…”
He let it die, and Sorenson said gently, “What did you see?”
Arlen shook his head. “Let’s leave it at a bad feeling.”
“And so we will. Make no mistake, Mr. Wagner, I’m a man who appreciates the art of the premonition.”
“Mine are a little different than yours. Less manufactured.”
“Than mine, sure. I’ve known others, though… there’s a village not far from here in which every resident claims to be a medium. The place is called Cassadaga. Anytime I pass close to the area, I pay a visit. A friend introduced me to a fortune-teller there. She’s remarkable.”
“What does she tell you? Winning numbers for your games?”
“Yesterday, she told me there was death in the rain.”
“In the rain?”
“That’s what she said. I asked her if it was my own death, and she said it was not. Then she told me, as she has before, that I worry too much about death. All that dies, she said, is the body. That’s all. And she believes, quite firmly, that she can continue to communicate with those whose bodies are no more. Do you believe in such a thing?”
“Absolutely not,” Arlen said, thinking, I’d better not. Because if I do, then I’ve got something to answer for.
“You say that with conviction,” Sorenson said. “Yet you abandoned a train you needed to be on due to your own unusual perception.”
“There’s a world of difference there,” Arlen said.
Sorenson had set his hat down on the bar and shed his jacket, revealing a sweat-stained white shirt and suspenders.
“The lad who travels with you was not in favor of the change of plans. He did not support the… bad feeling.”
“He supported it enough,” Arlen said. “He got off the train.”
“Hell, man, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
Arlen turned to face him, the whiskey wrapping its arms around him now in such a way that he didn’t fear the man’s mocking.
“You think your fortune-teller can sense death coming?” he said. “Well, brother, I can see it. Tell you something else—I ain’t ever wrong. Ever.”
Sorenson gazed at him without reaction. Arlen held the stare for a time and then turned away, at which point Sorenson finally spoke.
“I am most taken with games of chance and those who purport themselves as capable of beating them. And life, Mr. Wagner? That’s the best game of chance in this world. You think you can beat it.”
“No,” Arlen said. “I do not think that.”
“Sure you do. We’ll see if you can. The fate of that train will tell the tale.”
“It may not be the train,” Arlen said, his voice starting to thicken with drink. “Could be something will happen that has nothing to do with the train. But the Keys aren’t safe, damn it, and I want to keep that kid from going.”
“You say that as if you suspect it will be difficult.”
“He’s determined. I’d like to get to Hillsborough County, to the CCC camp there. The boy doesn’t belong down in the Keys.”
“I see.” Sorenson twirled his glass on the bar, watching the warm amber liquid devour his ice. Arlen had a passing notion that he was surprised such a bar even had ice; perhaps this was what Sorenson provided in these days of open liquor trade. “Well, Wagner, what I said during our game holds true—luck rides with you tonight. Not only did you win the game, not only did you escape the train to the Keys, not only did you hitch with me just in time to avoid the rain, but you’ve found a ride to Hillsborough County. I’ll make a few stops along the way, but by sundown I’ll be within twenty miles. Can’t pass on a free ride.”