The Last Innocent Man

“Well, I did it, old buddy. Beat the shit out of her. Ah, she deserved it. She was a real bitch. I mean the original bitch. Anyway, I was tanked. Really polluted. But randy. Very hot to trot. And do you know what? She turned me down. The bitch would not spread. I couldn’t let her get away with that, could I, Dave? I mean, I was really ready for some exotic stuff. Not your missionary position. No, sir. I was going to dick her good. But she said no dice, so I decked her. It felt great.”

Gault paused for effect. David didn’t move.

“Have you ever hit a woman? No? It feels terrific. They’re soft. They can’t take the pain.”

Gault closed his eyes for a moment, and a beatific expression possessed his features.

“Julie was very soft, Dave. Soft in all the right places. And she adored pain. Loved it. So I gave her the ultimate in pain. I gave her death.”

Gault paused and looked directly at David.

“What do you think of that, Dave?”

David didn’t know what to say. He felt sick. Gault’s face had hardened into a sadistic mask as he talked, and the handsome features looked twisted and grotesque. Then the face split open and Gault began to shake with laughter.

“Oh, you should see your face. God!” he roared between breaths. David was confused by the sudden change.

“It’s not true. I made it all up,” the writer gasped. “What terrific dialogue. You should see your face.”

“I don’t…” David started.

“It’s a joke, son. Get it? A joke. I didn’t kill Julie. She was a bitch, all right, and I’m not broken up about her death. But, shit, she was a human being and I’d hate to see anyone go the way she did.”

Gault stopped and David tried to speak. He didn’t know whether he wanted to hit Gault or get a drink.

“You son of a bitch,” he said finally.

“Really had you going, didn’t I?”

“Jesus.”

“Serves you right for thinking I did it in the first place.”

But David didn’t know what to think. There had been something about the expression on Gault’s face when he was making his confession…

“Aren’t you going to say anything, old buddy?” Gault asked, his grin spread across his face.

“I don’t know what to say,” David answered, his tone betraying some of the anger that had replaced his initial shock and confusion.

“Aw, come on, Dave. You’re not mad, are you?”

“Dammit, Tom,” David said, his face flushed, “that’s not something to kid about.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, boy-o,” Gault answered. “The first thing you learn when you are soldiering is that Death is a joke. The ultimate prank, old buddy.”

Gault leaned across the desk. He was talking toward David, but David sensed that Gault was speaking to himself.

“Death is everywhere, and never forget that. The more civilized the surroundings, the harder it is to spot the little devil, but he’s there, hiding in the laundromat, peeping out from your microwave oven. He’s got more camouflage here in Portland, but he’s always present.

“Now, there’s two ways of dealing with Death, old buddy: you can fear him or you can laugh at him. But I’ll tell you the truth: it don’t make no difference how you treat him, because he treats us all the same. So when you’re in the jungle, where you see Death every day standing buck naked right out in the open, you get to know the little devil real well and you learn that he is a prankster and not a serious dude at all. And you learn that it’s better to die laughing than to live each moment in fear.”

Gault stopped abruptly and sat back in his chair.

“I hope I remember that,” he said. “Be great in my next book, don’t you think? Real profound.”

“Very, Tom,” David said, still unsure of what to make of Gault’s confession and disconcerted because of his uncertainty. “Look, do you mind if we work on the book some other time?”

“Hey, I didn’t upset you, did I?”

“No, Tom,” David lied, “I just didn’t expect you and I’ve got some things to do. Why don’t we get together sometime next week?”

“Sounds good,” Gault said, standing. “I’ll give you a call.”

Gault started to leave, then stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“One thing, Dave. If that had been the truth, if I really had killed Julie, would you have kept it a secret?”

“I never reveal a client’s confidence.”

“You’re all right, old buddy. And you should take care of yourself. You don’t look so hot. Get more sleep.”

Gault winked and he was gone.

7

It took David a long time to calm down after Gault left. Was it all a joke? Gault had a sadistic streak in him. He had enjoyed seeing David wriggle on his hook. But when he was discussing the murder, he seemed so sincere, he seemed to be reliving an experience, not creating one. David didn’t know what to think, and the worst thing was that the attorney-client privilege prevented him from discussing with anyone what Gault had said.

The intercom buzzed and David was grateful for the diversion. It was Monica calling from the district attorney’s office.

“Can you come over, Dave?” she asked.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you about Tony Seals.”

“What about him?”