Chapter 78

He turned and sauntered into the living room. He stopped, turned towards the hallway, staring in the direction of where Paula lay sleeping, dead to the world. He bowed his head, as if saying his final goodbyes, and turned and clipped towards the door, swinging open the screen and disappearing into the bright light of late afternoon.

Seconds after Marshall staggered out into the front yard, seething, and mumbling to himself, my mother raised her glass, emptying it clean. “He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?”

We heard the truck’s engine rev and Marshall pull away, burning rubber in the streets.

That was the last time we had seen or heard from Tiny Dick Marshall. 28

The second to last talk my mother and I had took place the following morning. We were up before light and birdsong and Adam Bellingham banging around in his garage, packing for places unknown.