Chapter Twenty-Two

Pluto's Ice House was little more than a dilapidated shack. A few weather-beaten picnic tables were placed haphazardly in the muddy, grassless yard, while others were arranged in crooked rows under a rotting wooden canopy strung with tiny red lights that winked on and off like the eyes of lurking nocturnal beasts. Inside the building itself, the bar and the wall behind it were encrusted with beer ads, posters and old license plates. A few hard-core drinkers sat hunched over their bottles in self-absorbed silence, not bantering or even speaking to each other, and only occasionally turning their heads at the click of billiard balls or a particularly creative curse over a missed shot at the pool table.

Joe parked near the dried-up husk of a tree that appeared to have once been hit by lightning, got out and walked across the mud lot, looking around all the while for Chále. Not seeing him, he went inside. When he didn't find him at the bar, he peered into the gloom of the pool room, but his friend wasn't there, either. He pulled up a stool at the end of the bar and the bartender ambled over, wiping his hands on a dirty rag before stuffing one end of it in the back pocket of his jeans.

Joe darted a glance down the row of other drinkers. The biggest and most dangerous-looking of them was drinking Miller High Life, so that's what he ordered. While he waited for his beer, he took in the scene again, nodding at the other men at the bar, then returning his gaze to the spot on the counter in front of him. When the bartender set his bottle in front of him, Joe pulled out his wallet and pushed a ten across the bar. While he was waiting for his change, someone called his name from the doorway.

Joe turned around. "Hey, Cholo. I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it."

Chále strode up to him, his leather blazer now exchanged for a more casual t-shirt and windbreaker. He waved at the bartender and the other men at the bar then pulled up a stool and settled his bony frame on it, clearly in his element. "This place is my second home, man." He looked Joe up and down. "You're looking great. A pretty wife and small-town living must agree with you."

The bartender had returned with Joe's change, and Joe indicated he should bring Chále whatever he wanted. The bartender didn't bother to ask Chále what he drank and simply reached into a cooler, pulled out a bottle and twisted off the lid.

Joe took a sip of his beer. "You're not looking so bad, yourself."

"I'd look better if the wife and kids weren't giving me wrinkles and gray hairs."

"Six kids can be expensive," Joe agreed. "Does your wife work?"

"No way. Who'd look after the children?"

Joe picked at the label on his beer. "So what do you do with yourself these days when you're not chasing kids, going to church or hanging around here?"

"Oh, not much. I was in trucking for a while, 'til Inez made me quit because I was never at home. Too bad, because it was good money. Now I do odd jobs and construction work. Right now I'm helping do some repairs on a road about five miles south of here." Chále waved a hand in the general direction of south. "But you don't want to hear what I'm up to. Tell me what's with you, Mr. Fancy Woodworks. You say you're in town on business?"

Joe sighed and motioned for the bartender to bring him another beer. "I guess you could say that. The carving business is going great. Just got a new commission. Should take me the better part of a year, because it's a big piece, but it'll bring in a pretty penny when it's done."

"Sounds good, man. So that's why you're here?"

"No." Joe's voice dropped to a mumble. "Elise left me. I think she's somewhere here in St. Argent."

Chále sucked in his breath. "Sorry to hear it."

Joe nodded. "At least I've got a good lead."

The two men drank in silence for a moment. "So why'd she leave, if you don't mind my asking."

"She didn't say in her note." Joe stared into the mouth of his bottle. "But I've got my theories."

"I see." Chále looked down at his beer as well. "She didn't run off with another man, did she?"

Joe snorted. "No, although I half-wish she had. Instead I've got the other man tagging along with me, trying to help find her."

Chále took a long pull at his bottle and signaled to the bartender for another. "Man, that's too much. So Elise was fooling around on you, then left both you and the other guy? And now you two are looking for her together?"

Joe nodded. "That's right."

Chále threw his head back and whooped. "That's got to be the weirdest thing I've heard in I don't know how long." Catching the frown on Joe's face, Chále asked, "How's it working out? I'm surprised you didn't just kill him. I know I would've."

I've come close a couple times, "Joe admitted. "But I don't need any more trouble than I've already got, and he's been a big help."

"Oh, sure," Chále said. "Why wouldn't he? He's lost his playmate, but you lost your wife." Chále's eyes narrowed. "If I were you, I'd be real suspicious of this guy's motives. He screwed you over once, he'll do it again."

"I don't think so. He wants to her to be happy and he says she'd never be happy with him."

"Oh. He can't have her so he gives her back to you? Is that this jerk's game?"

Joe sighed. "It's not like that, either. They were friends long before I ever knew her. He really does seem to care about her."

"If he cared that much, he would've left her alone. Sounds to me like even if you do find her, you're going to spend the rest of your life wondering what those two are up to behind your back." Chále pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one, taking a deep drag before continuing. "If you want my advice, take Elise far away. That is, if you even still want her after some other man has had her. If you intend on keeping her, take her someplace where she won't have a chance to see this so-called friend of hers again."

Joe picked at the damp label of his empty beer bottle. "There's a problem with that plan, other than that it could screw up my business to move away from my client base."

"What's that?"

"Elise is pregnant."

"You're shitting me. His or yours?"

"I don't know."

Chále puffed on his cigarette for a few silent minutes, then flicked his ash onto the concrete floor. "You know, you used to be a pretty smart guy. I mean, I always knew that out of all the idiots, losers and petty crooks we grew up with, you'd amount to something." He reached for his beer. "You were the only guy in shop class to take the teacher's advice and go into welding. Then you got that job offshore where you made the big bucks. Instead of blowing your cash on beer and a fancy truck like the rest of us would've, you got into metal art and wood sculpture. We laughed at the time, but now look-- you're famous all over the state." He picked up the cardboard coaster from underneath his beer bottle and examined it. "You're a smart guy, but you've obviously got a screw loose over this woman. You're still young, you're successful, all the chicks love artists... what do you need with an unfaithful whore who's pregnant with another man's kid?" Chále drained his beer and set the bottle on the bar. "Forget this chick, man. You don't need her."

Joe had been silent through all this, but now he asked quietly, "What if it's my kid? Then what? And besides, I don't want another woman-- I want her."

"You always were a stubborn bastard."

"I just know what I want."

"Why her, though? Get you some young hottie with an inheritance coming her way. You must meet loads of those kinds of chicks at art openings."

Joe looked at his feet and thought a minute. "I don't think so, Cholo. This girl is important to me. She makes me feel special, like I'm the most important guy in the world."

"Special, my ass. She's been feeding you a line, all right."

"I know it sounds that way, but it's not the kind of thing a guy can put into words."

"Just goes to show she's a tricky one," Chále said. "You don't need a woman like that, believe me. I had a feeling you were in trouble the very first time you told me about her. You used to have her come over and model for you, and she had a boyfriend at the time."

"It wasn't like it was nude modeling. I had her draped in sheets. She was supposed to be an angel."

"Some angel."

"She brought her boyfriend with her the first couple of times. He'd sit on the sofa smoking Marlboroughs until he finally figured nothing was going to happen and let her come over on her own."

Chále took a long pull on his beer. "And that's when things got interesting, as I recall."

"Can I help it we fell in love?"

"Maybe you fell in love. She saw a chump who'd put a roof over her head and take care of her. That's how all women are."

Joe's voice took on an edge. "If Elise wanted a man to take care of her, she's had lots of opportunities to do better. She makes good money. She doesn't need me."

"Not any more, obviously, but she did then. You paid her school debts, then let her live off your nickel so she could paint." Chále shook his head. "You're not in love. You're whipped."

Joe knocked his empty bottle to the floor. The other men at the bar turned to look, but quickly returned their attention to their drinks upon encountering Joe's hostile glare. With deadly calm, he said, "Friend or no friend, you've got no right to go saying things like that."

Chále lowered his eyes. "You're right. I kind of stepped over the line just now. I'm sorry."

Joe rested his elbows on the bar and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, too.  I know you're just trying to help."

Chále motioned for the bartender to bring his friend another drink. "You may hate me for this, and that's your prerogative, but I feel like it's my duty to say I hope you don't find her. You're in for nothing but trouble if you do. Even if that is your kid, and even if she never looks at another man again, you're still going to have to live with knowing what she did." He shook his head. "Whatever my problems are, and I've got plenty, at least I don't have to worry about my Inez. She's no beauty, but I'm no prize myself.  We may be simple folks, but we never have to doubt the love is there."