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It
was
Steve
Masterton
,
checking
back
about
racket
ball
,
and
Louis
agreed
to
meet
him
at
the
Memorial
Gym
in
an
hour
.
He
could
not
really
afford
the
time
,
and
racket
ball
was
the
last
thing
in
the
world
he
felt
like
right
now
,
but
he
had
to
get
out
.
He
wanted
to
get
away
from
the
cat
,
that
weird
cat
which
had
no
business
being
there
at
all
.
He
hurried
,
tucking
in
his
shirt
quickly
,
stuffing
a
pair
of
shorts
,
a
t-shirt
,
and
a
towel
into
his
zipper
bag
,
and
trotting
down
the
stairs
.
Church
was
lying
on
the
fourth
riser
from
the
bottom
.
Louis
tripped
over
the
cat
and
almost
fell
.
He
managed
to
grab
the
bannister
and
barely
save
himself
from
what
could
have
been
a
nasty
fall
.
He
stood
at
the
bottom
of
the
stairs
,
breathing
in
snatches
,
his
heart
racing
,
the
adrenaline
whipping
unpleasantly
through
his
body
.
Church
stood
up
,
stretched
...
and
seemed
to
grin
at
him
.
Louis
left
.
He
should
have
put
the
cat
out
,
he
knew
that
,
but
he
did
n't
.
At
that
particular
moment
he
did
n't
think
he
could
bring
himself
to
touch
it
.
Jud
lit
a
cigarette
with
a
wooden
kitchen
match
,
shook
it
out
,
and
tossed
the
stub
into
a
tin
ashtray
with
a
barely
readable
Jim
Beam
advertisement
painted
on
its
bottom
.
"
Ayuh
,
it
was
Stanley
Bouchard
who
told
me
about
the
place
.
"
He
paused
,
thinking
.
Barely
touched
glasses
of
beer
stood
before
them
on
the
checked
oilcloth
that
covered
the
kitchen
table
.
Behind
them
,
the
barrel
of
range
oil
clamped
to
the
wall
gurgled
three
times
,
deliberately
,
and
was
still
.
Louis
had
caught
a
pick-up
supper
with
Steve
--
submarine
sandwiches
in
the
mostly
deserted
Bear
's
Den
.
He
had
found
out
early
that
if
you
asked
for
a
hoagie
or
a
grinder
or
a
gyro
in
Maine
,
they
did
n't
know
what
you
were
talking
about
.
Ask
for
a
sub
or
a
Wop-burger
,
and
you
were
in
business
.
With
some
food
in
him
,
Louis
began
to
feel
better
about
Church
's
return
,
felt
that
he
had
things
more
in
perspective
,
but
he
was
still
not
anxious
to
return
to
his
dark
,
empty
house
where
the
cat
could
be
--
let
's
face
it
,
gang
--
anywhere
at
all
.
Norma
sat
with
them
for
quite
a
while
,
watching
TV
and
working
on
a
sampler
that
showed
the
sun
going
down
behind
a
small
county
meeting
house
.
The
cross
on
the
roof
tree
was
silhouetted
black
against
the
setting
sun
.
Something
to
sell
,
she
said
,
at
the
church
sale
the
week
before
Christmas
.
Always
a
big
event
.
Her
fingers
moved
well
,
pushing
the
needle
through
the
cloth
,
pulling
it
up
through
the
steel
circle
.
Her
arthritis
was
barely
noticeable
tonight
.
