Free See Also Deception by Larry D. Sweazy

Herbert’s glass, could smell the burning strength of the whiskey, and shook my head. “Just a glass of water and an ashtray.”
    He nodded and eased away just as smoothly as he came. The waitress eyed me knowingly, like she’d known what I was going to order before I did. There was no money to be made off me.
    â€œI was worried about you,” I said to Herbert. My first instinct was to reach over and touch him on the shoulder, offer him what solace I could, but I restrained myself. It didn’t take a fool to know that the man didn’t like to be touched.
    â€œYou heard?”
    â€œIt was in the paper.”
    â€œI suppose it was. I was afraid to look. That would make it real.” He was far from drunk. His words were not slurred, and he seemed lucid, aware.
    I stared at him, and he stared back at me. His eyes were already glassy, so it was hard to tell if he was about to cry or had been crying all morning. Just as a tear was about to escape him, he looked away to the wall, to the past, to someplace I had no idea of.
    Don’t press, Marjorie , my inside voice warned, so I said nothing, nodded as the bartender delivered my requested items, and watched him go back to the task of drying glasses with a white bleached towel.
    I dug into my purse and pulled out my cigarettes, a half pack of Salems, and a book of matches from the Ivanhoe. Herbert needed his time, so I went about lighting a cigarette.
    The first bit of smoke hit my lungs as I inhaled and it was a nice relief. I needed something to calm me down as much as Herbert did. I exhaled slowly.
    â€œThat was Calla’s brand, too,” he said.
    I glanced down to the pack and realized how thoughtless I’d been. “I’m sorry,” I said, grabbing up the green and white pack.
    Herbert stopped me and grabbed my wrist causally with an easy grip. “It’s okay, Marjorie. You can’t erase her. She’s everywhere I look. Always will be, I suppose.”
    I heard a familiar love and loss in Herbert’s voice. We were kindred spirits at that moment. Something I could never have imagined. I let the silence settle between us and took another draw off my cigarette. Since I wasn’t a regular smoker, my throat protested briefly and I let out a small cough.
    â€œHow ’bout you, Marjorie? You all right?”
    I shook my head. “No, I don’t think I am. I can hardly believe she’s gone, Herbert.”
    He agreed silently with a sip of the whiskey. I watched him closely. His hair was still slicked back with yesterday’s Brylcreem, pomade made of beeswax and mineral oil. It had lost its smell, or was overwhelmed by all of the circulating aromas inside the Wild Pony. He still had on his janitor’s uniform, too. Dark gray Dickie work pants with a shirt to match. His name was stitched over the right pocket.
    â€œHave you been home?” I asked. I sat the Salem down in the ashtray and watched the smoke waft upward until it joined the rest of the tobacco that lingered in the air.
    â€œIt’s hard to go down there. I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”
    Herbert lived in the basement of the library, had for as long as I could remember. There had always been speculation and gossip about a relationship between Herbert and Calla, but no one knew for sure the extent of it. Not even me.
    â€œI met Delia Finch,” I said.
    Herbert shook his head and his lip twisted up as if he had smelled something dead. “She’s a treat.”
    I started to agree, but didn’t want to add to the sourness. I bit my lip instead. “I’m sure it’s difficult for her being a stranger in town under the circumstances.”
    Herbert turned and stared at me. “Why would she do something like this, Marjorie? Why?”
    All of the sound in the room ceased. Even the pinball machine quieted, held its breath in sadness or respect, I wasn’t sure which.
    â€œI don’t