Pro Bono

Chapter 23

23

R onald Talbert did some of his best thinking while he was driving. He had been driving for over four hours, but had not succeeded in working things out so there would be a satisfactory future. He had been struck by Connie Pollock’s offhand remark that he could vanish into a country that didn’t extradite American criminals. He had pulled his car into the parking lot at South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, plugged in his phone, and done some online research.

Out of 193 countries the United Nations recognized, the US had diplomatic relations and extradition treaties with most of them. Some that had treaties were capricious and couldn’t be relied on to live up to the treaties—Ecuador and Switzerland, for instance. Others wouldn’t turn over anybody who might be executed, but turned over everybody else. The ones who were left didn’t appeal to him—places like China, Russia, North Korea, Iran, Syria, Afghanistan. The best exception seemed to be Bhutan, which was very high altitude and tiny, and didn’t seem to have gotten around to making a policy on the topic. It might be possible for him to sneak into some foreign country, change his appearance, develop a false identity, and then sneak over a second border to avoid any searches, and live a miserable, solitary existence there. He started the car again and drove to the northbound freeway entrance toward home.

He knew Francesca couldn’t run away with him, and it wasn’t something he held against her. She had been heroic in fulfilling her part of the marriage, even though the marriage must have felt like he’d doomed her to a smaller life than she’d been raised to expect. She had never complained about that. When he’d heard her explaining to the kids why their family weren’t going to Maui for Christmas or France for the summer like some of their friends, it had felt like he was being bled to death, but she said it with simplicity and good sense. “I promise you, it will be more important to you in a few years that you’re able to go to a fine college because we didn’t waste our savings on expensive vacations. Those are pretty, sunny places, but we live in a pretty, sunny place. People in those places pay to come here.” When he remembered it, he could hear her voice. In order to cover up his thefts, he’d had to drain some personal savings in a hurry, assuming he could replenish them within a few weeks. It occurred to him that the transfers had included the kids’ college funds, and that he wasn’t ever going to be able to get near Founding Fathers Vested again.

He realized that he was an hour and a half from home, and Francesca would be expecting him in about an hour, so he drove faster. He knew that he should be using every second in some constructive way. He had to face one of the problems that he had been pushing out of his mind all day. He didn’t want to go to prison. No, it was much worse than that. He would rather be dead. Lots of people thought that, but the ones who hadn’t obtained the means for suicide and kept them where they could reach them quickly were trapped.

His cousin Tim had been a handgun enthusiast. He’d told Ron once a few years ago that his collection had reached a hundred. Ron had said, “I know there are two major kinds—revolvers and semiautos—but they’re all tools that do exactly the same thing, aren’t they? Isn’t it like having a hundred hammers?” Tim was dead now. He’d been on this exact freeway when a big truck had swerved into his lane and knocked his car sideways into the concrete barrier.

Talbert checked his phone’s directory. Tim’s number was still in it. Before he could start thinking of reasons not to, he pressed the number. After a few seconds he heard Tim’s wife answer, “This is Tina.” He said, “Hi, Tina. This is Ron. Cousin Ron Talbert.”

“Hi, Ron,” she said. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Part of it is this business. I happened to need to drive to Irvine today, so I’ll be going right past your house. I wondered if I could stop and see you and Ricky on my way home.”

“Uh, sure. I guess so. Only he likes to be called Richard now, because he’s older. How far off are you?”

“I guess about fifteen minutes. I just passed the exit for Route 133.”

“Then it’s eleven minutes. I’d better hang up and straighten out the living room. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

He thought about what he was doing and felt dread. Tina was not a stupid woman. She would already sense that he was after something. He hoped she wouldn’t be unpleasant about it and humiliate him. When he reached Tim and Tina’s house, it looked about the same as it always had, except that the yellow paint job was fresh. He pulled over in front of the house, walked to the front door, and rang the bell.

A moment later Tina opened the door. He had forgotten how pretty she was. She was wearing her black hair long and straight now, and she had more makeup on. She wore a skirt that was short and stylish, and high heels. “Hi, Ron,” she said, and leaned out to give him a peck on the cheek. “Come on in. I just got home from work myself. Can I get you something to drink?”

“That sounds good,” he said. “Just a glass of water for me.”

She pivoted and headed for the kitchen and brought out a bottle of sparkling water and a glass. “Ice?”

“No, thanks,” he said. She gave him the water.

“What made you think of us?” she asked.

“I think about you and Richard fairly often. We used to love having you three come for get-togethers around holidays, but as the kids grow older, they get to be hard to pin down. When they’re little, you don’t have to check their availability. When they’re older, they’d rather be with their friends. And girls are the worst. They grow up faster. We finally got out of the habit of doing those dinners and things—gave up, really. We should start them up again.”

“It might be fun. Holidays aren’t only for kids. Nice to see you. But what happened to your face? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. Some young guys saw me going into work before dawn, and I guess they thought they’d end their night out by taking my wallet to cover their expenses. Fortunately, they’d spent their money on drinks. You, on the other hand, look terrific,” he said. “You said you just got home from work. Where do you work?”

“Thronebridge Fashions at Costa Mesa.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “Very high-end.” He paused. “You remember, when I talked to you after the funeral, I asked you to get in touch with me if you or Richard needed anything. When you didn’t get in touch, I didn’t want to butt in, but I hoped it meant you were doing okay. I’m glad to see you’ve got a good job and you’re thriving, but the invitation still holds. Things come up, and we all sometimes find hard things are easier if we face them as a family.”

“We’re fine, at least for the moment,” she said. “How are Francesca and the kids?”

“Fine. For the moment, anyway.” he said. “Knock on wood.” He knocked on the coffee table. “The girls are lucky. They look like Fran.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see them. Do you have pictures of them on your phone?”

“I know I should, but I’m not good about taking them. I’ll send some recent ones when I get home.” He sat staring at her sadly. “You know, I can’t drive down here without thinking of you and Tim. I’m sure he told you how close he and I were growing up. In later years, we couldn’t see each other as much as we liked, but when I look back on my life, he’s still one of the most important people. I think about you both a lot. I found myself having to wipe tears out of my eyes today.”

“I’d give a lot if Tim could hear that,” she said.

“You know, I hesitate to even say this, but I wonder if you would do me a favor.”

“What is it?” her voice was wary.

“I wondered if you could spare a keepsake, a token to remember him by.”

“What sort of thing were you thinking?”

“He and I always used to kid each other, and we went back and forth all the time about his guns. I used to ask him questions about why he needed a hundred of them, and if he gave them all names, whether he picked them to go with different outfits, formal and casual, and so on. He would tell me what a bad citizen I was to not exercise my Second Amendment rights, and then switched to how I was so uncoordinated it was probably just as well.”

“That’s what you came for? You want one of Tim’s guns?”

“It isn’t what I came for,” he said. “I came to see you and check how you and Richard were doing. If I was out of line asking, I’m really sorry. Please, just forget it.”

“No,” she said. “I’m actually relieved it was just that. Here, I’ve got them locked up in his gun safe where he left them. After he died and money got tight, I tried to sell them all at once to a dealer or another collector, but that didn’t work, and selling one at a time was too complicated, with the laws and everything. Any one in particular?”

“No. Any one.”

“Wait. I have to do the combination and all that.” She went up the stairs, then came back down a few minutes later carrying a nickel-plated revolver and a box of ammunition. “I’m pretty sure these go together because he kept them on the same shelf.” She set them on the coffee table.

He looked at them, and then looked up at her, and he could see she was gazing at him with something less than affection. “Good enough?”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s very kind of you. I’ll think of both of you whenever I look at it.”

“I’m actually doing it because I know that if you’d asked him, he would have given it to you. All I ask is that you remember you have kids in the house. If it’s not locked up, they’ll find it. Don’t think they won’t.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he said. “And I know these things are expensive. Let me pay you for it.”

“No. I told you, all I ask is that you store it safely.” She paused. “You know, it’s getting late.” She hadn’t looked at the time, and there was no clock visible from there. “You’d be smart to get on the road.”

“I would, but I’d hate to miss seeing Richard.”

“He’s on the soccer team, so he won’t be back from practice until it’s nearly your bedtime. And any afternoon when you head for Los Angeles after around four thirty you’re in rush hour traffic. Fran will be upset if you’re not there in time for dinner. And I advise you to think about how you tell her about the gun. I remember she was not a fan of firearms.”

Talbert had no choice but to pick up the gun and the box of bullets and put them in different pockets of his sport coat and walk to the door. When he came close, he leaned toward her intending to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but she turned away. “Thank you again, Tina. Love to Richard.” He stepped out past her. He went two steps and heard the door shut behind him.

He walked to his car quickly, eager to start it and get out of her sight. When he had turned the first corner and was making progress toward the freeway entrance, he tried to feel better, but he couldn’t.

After a mile or two he thought about the way she might feel if he used the gun on himself. It was selfish to do it when he knew she would probably feel guilty and would certainly face some sort of official inquiry about the gun. But that would be in the future, and it would only happen if the future came and he wasn’t in it.