“Elle, this is Harry, the best bartender in the Rocky Mountains. Harry, this is Elle, the second best waitress in the Rocky Mountains.”
Elle laughed. “Pleased to meet you, Harry.”
“You too, Elle. What brings you to our little patch of the world?”
Elle thought about what to say, but Kelly answered for her. “She’s working with me and Gracie.”
“I see,” Harry said.
Kelly ordered a couple of beers and Harry brought them over.
“So,” Elle said as she took a sip of her drink, “did you and Grace see the pickup in the parking lot when you left?”
“I didn’t notice one,” Kelly said. “Maybe Grace saw it, why?”
“It was the guy?”
“What guy?”
“The guy I spilled coffee on.”
“He was waiting for you in the parking lot?”
“No, he wasn’t waiting for me.”
“Then what?”
“He’d fallen asleep in his truck.”
“What? In this cold? I knew he was crazy.”
“He’s not crazy.”
“He’s pretty weird, Elle.”
“He’s got to go to a funeral. He’s grieving.”
“He told you that?”
“He asked me if I knew where the funeral home was.”
The bartender was cleaning some glasses and had overheard the girls’ conversation. He spoke up.
“Someone asked you for the funeral home?”
“Yeah,” Kelly answered. “A weird guy came into the diner today and made a scene.”
“The funeral home here in Stone Peak?” Harry said, looking at Elle.
“Yes,” Elle said.
“Did he happen to tell you his name?”
“No,” Elle said, looking at the bartender curiously. “Why?”
“What did he look like?” Harry continued.
“Tall,” Elle said.
“Muscular, tattoos,” Kelly added.
“What age was he?”
“I’d say about thirty,” Elle said.
Harry did a little quick arithmetic, then shook his head. “Holy hell,” he said.
“What is it, Harry?” Kelly said.
“He came back for him.”
“What?” Elle said. “Who came back? And for who?”
“It’s a long story,” Harry said, “but the son of a bitch came back. I’ll be damned.”
“What’s a long story?” Elle said.
“You don’t want me to go over it.”
“Of course we do,” Kelly said.
“You sure? It’s not a nice story.”
“Tell us,” both girls insisted.
“All right,” Harry said, “but you’re going to need something stronger than beer.” He poured them each a shot of Jameson’s whiskey, and a shot for himself, and the three of them knocked them back.
“All right, listen closely, I’m only going to say this once,” Harry said. “The man at the funeral home right now was the meanest son of a bitch that ever lived in this town. I mean, I don’t like to talk ill of the dead, but this guy, Abraham Snow was his name, he was a real piece of work. He was always a son of a bitch, but it really began to show itself after he got married. He married a sweet, local girl. I knew her well. He was lucky to have her but the son of a bitch never knew it. He never appreciated her. In fact, he wasn’t opposed to roughing her up every now and then. Back then it wasn’t the same as now. He could get away with it back then, especially because his wife was too afraid to go to the police about it. Anyway, one thing led to another and she got pregnant. The pregnancy didn’t go too great. He didn’t let up on the violence. He didn’t get her the medicine she needed. He even refused to get her the right food and nutrition and everything. Basically, he was just too mean to look after her.”
“So what happened?” Elle said.
“Well, it came time for her to give birth. It wasn’t going to be an easy birth, the complications during the pregnancy made sure of that, but to make matters worse, Abraham refused to bring her to the hospital when she went into labor. He was afraid of the hospital bill, and he was too cheap to do what was required.”
“That’s evil.”
“Yeah, I agree. I mean, apparently she’d been begging him to take her to the hospital but he wouldn’t do it. According to the report that came out afterwards, she’d been lying in a pool of her own blood for twelve hours before he made the compromise of calling his wife’s sister. When the sister got there she knew she was too late. The mother was already dead.”
“That’s awful,” Kelly said.
“And what about the baby?” Elle said.
She looked at Kelly. Kelly was as wrapt in the story as she was, although she’d heard some of the details before. She still wasn’t sure though why Harry was telling it now.
“The baby lived,” Harry said. “He’d be about thirty now, as you said.”
“What do you mean, as I said?”
“If the man you saw today was looking for the funeral home, then I’d bet dollars to donuts he’s Abraham Snow’s son, the baby who killed his mother on his way into the world.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Elle said.